


Feeling Flows Both Ways

by GotTheSilver



Series: Fireside 'verse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Co-Parenting, Complicated Relationships, Divorce, M/M, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: The aftermath.*"Can we skip to the part where no one gives a shit about us and we’re old news?  Where I can take my kid out for ice cream without being harassed?”“I don’t think we’ll ever be old news,” Steve says.  “I wish we could be, but—”“I know.” Tony brushes his fingers over Morgan’s nose, smiling absently as she frowns in her sleep.  “Hey, so, I saw this building in Brooklyn.”“I’m sorry, did you just say—”“Yes, I said Brooklyn, don’t sound so smug."





	Feeling Flows Both Ways

**Author's Note:**

> reading the first fic in this series is pretty essential to knowing the set up for this one.
> 
> writing sequels isn't usually my thing, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to explore what came next for them all, not just relationship wise, but living in this new post-endgame world, and this is the result of that.
> 
> with thanks to those who listened to me yell about how this fic ended up longer than I expected and let me flip ideas around about Morgan and Steve interacting, this fic would be less without you.
> 
> c/n: there's grief discussion re: Natasha

The divorce hit the press like a goddamn nuclear explosion, and, as much as Tony hated the press before this, it’s nothing compared to how much he hates it now. You’d think that saving the world would give them some kind of leeway, but apparently there’s an expiry date on that. In the immediate aftermath, with Tony recovering and unable to leave the tower, they could avoid most of it, but now it’s half a year later, the shine has worn off and everyone’s ready to come at Tony the way they used to. Which would be fine, if it weren’t for Morgan and Steve.

Steve keeps telling him that he can handle it, that he can put up with whatever the press throw at him, but—he shouldn’t _have_ to, is the thing that Tony keeps coming back to. And, Morgan, fuck, in a million years Tony will never understand why they think his goddamn child is fair game.

“We should go away,” Tony says, running a hand over Morgan’s hair where she’s dozing on his lap. “Somewhere warm, somewhere that’s not... here. Somewhere we can take Morgan out without photographers chasing us.”

“Tony, I know today was bad—”

“It was worse than bad,” Tony interrupts. “They chased us through the fucking park.”

“Little ears, sweetheart,” Steve says with a smile as he looks at Morgan crashed out over Tony. “If you want, then we can, but we’ve got so much to do here. We still need to find somewhere to live.”

“Yeah,” Tony says with a sigh, shifting slightly to lean against Steve without disturbing Morgan, tension leaving his body when Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I know, I know, I just—god, can we skip to the part where no one gives a shit about us and we’re old news? Where I can take my kid out for ice cream without being harassed?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever be old news,” Steve says. “I wish we could be, but—”

“I know.” Tony brushes his fingers over Morgan’s nose, smiling absently as she frowns in her sleep. “Hey, so, I saw this building in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“Yes, I said Brooklyn, don’t sound so smug. It took a lot of damage during the—anyway, the building owners abandoned it and it’s been sitting there rotting but I—” Tony cuts himself off, and turns his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “If I buy it, we could do it up, full restoration, take the top of the building for us.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“Rent controlled units for people who have family ties in Brooklyn and can’t afford to stay in the area. Or they can buy them for cheap, we can condo it, whatever works better, I don’t know. So, what do you think?”

There’s a soft smile on Steve’s face, one that he only gets around Tony, and Tony can feel his cheeks flushing under the attention. “I think it’s perfect,” Steve says, pressing a kiss against Tony’s forehead. “Tony, people would love that.”

“The press will say I’m trying to buy good publicity.”

“Fuck the press.”

“What was that about little ears earlier, Mr. Rogers?”

“I heard him,” Morgan pipes up, and Tony exchanges an amused look with Steve before he hauls her up in a sitting position. She kneels on his lap, and Tony brushes her hair back from her face.

“You been listening in on us, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Morgan says, reaching over and grabbing Steve’s hand, wrapping her tiny hand around his thumb and holding on tight. “Ice cream,” she says, staring at Steve and widening her eyes a fraction.

Tony can’t hide the smile on his face when he sees the exact moment Steve gives in. “Sucker,” he whispers as Steve lifts Morgan off Tony’s lap and onto his shoulders, her hands pressing against Steve’s forehead. She doesn’t see Steve sticking his tongue out at Tony, and Tony laughs, getting up off the couch to follow them into the kitchen.

“The renovations will take time,” Tony says, taking a tub of Stark Raving Hazelnuts out of the freezer and getting three spoons. “We’d have to think about where we’ll live in the meantime.”

Steve swings Morgan down onto a chair and gets a bowl out of the cupboard, spooning some ice cream out of the tub for her. “We could stay here,” he says. “But it’s not ideal.”

“The penthouse we looked at before? It’s at least got space for when the wonder twins come visiting?”

“You know Sam and Bucky will share a room.”

“Don’t make me think about their—” Tony glances at Morgan, currently happily smearing ice cream across her mouth. “Snuggle time.”

Steve snorts, almost choking on a spoonful of ice cream. “That’s what you’re gonna go with?”

“I’m sorry, did you want your own snuggle time later, or?”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve pushes the ice cream tub over to Tony and sits back in his chair. “I’d like to see you try and withhold that.”

Tony narrows his eyes and clutches the tub. “That’s dirty play.”

“Learnt from the best.”

*

“Are you really moving to Brooklyn?” Pepper asks when she comes to pick Morgan up a week later. “Tony—”

“Don’t,” Tony says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

It stings, because she’s right. Tony lost that when he lost her, and that’s—he’s still getting used to that. He’s not sure if he ever will be. “You saw the purchase papers?”

“I did,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “You’re really doing this?”

“I don’t actually have a home right now,” Tony points out, trying not to be unkind. “I want Morgan to have a permanent base with me, and I want—” he breaks off and looks away from her. “Steve and I need a home together.”

“Tony—”

“I can’t talk about this with you,” he says. “I feel like I’m making everything worse if I do. Just. Just know I’m doing this for Morgan, for her future.”

“I know you are, Tony,” Pepper says quietly. “I know.”

They’re saved from any more awkward conversation by the elevator opening and Morgan stepping out, giggling at something FRIDAY’s telling her. “Mommy!” she yells, running across the foyer and throwing herself at Pepper’s legs.

“Hi baby,” Pepper says, fingers running through Morgan’s hair. “Did you have a good time with daddy and Steve?”

“Uh huh. I got ice cream.”

“She ate other food,” Tony interjects. “Remember, bunny? You ate those vegetables you and Steve made together?”

“I didn’t think Steve could cook,” Pepper says tentatively, like she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to inquire.

“He’s learning. Been looking up recipes to try with kids.”

“Oh,” Pepper says. “That’s—that’s really good of him.”

“He’s a good man, Pep.”

“I know, I do, Tony, it’s just—” she shakes her head and offers him a wan smile. “You know.”

“I do.” Tony crouches down and tugs Morgan into a hug, one hand cupping the back of her head. “See you soon, kiddo, okay?” he says, kissing her cheek. “Be good for your mom.”

Once FRIDAY’s assured him that Pepper and Morgan are in Pepper’s car and on their way back to the apartment on Park that Pepper’s now living in, Tony heads back inside the elevator and goes up to the kitchen where Steve’s cleaning up after dinner. He’s at the sink, cleaning dishes by hand, which he always does, despite the amount of times Tony’s reminded him about the dishwasher. Coming up behind him, Tony wraps his arms around Steve and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks, leaning back into Tony’s warmth.

“I hate saying goodbye to her.”

“When does Pepper go to Japan?”

“End of next week,” Tony says. “I’m not going with her, so we’re having Morgan. I think it’s working? Is it working?” He lets go of Steve and steps back before hitching himself up on the counter, heels tapping against the lower cabinets. Staring at Steve’s profile, Tony sighs. “You are allowed to have an opinion on this, you know.”

“I’m not going to get in the way of your relationship with Morgan.”

“You’re not in the way. At all,” Tony says, somewhat thrown by Steve’s comment. “Steve, hey, look at me.” He waits until Steve’s put the dishes down before he starts talking again. “You’re part of this family now,” he says quietly. “You’re—when I said Morgan comes above you, that didn’t mean that the two of you are separate things in my life, you get that, right?”

“Tony—”

“Because we have to have a serious conversation if that’s the case.”

“That’s not it,” Steve says, wiping his hands on a dishcloth and closing the small gap between he and Tony until he’s standing between Tony’s legs. “I don’t want to make this harder for her, or you. I’d love to have her here more, if that’s what you want, but I don’t want to take time away from Pepper, it’s—”

“A mess.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, bringing a hand up to cup Tony’s cheek. “Plus I—” he cuts himself off and drops his gaze down. “I feel selfish,” he continues, looking back up to meet Tony’s eyes. “Wanting you all to myself, now that we—”

“Yeah, no, I get that,” Tony interrupts. “I do. You’re not alone in that.” Turning his face into Steve’s palm, Tony presses a soft kiss against the skin before curling his legs around Steve’s slim hips and crossing his ankles, his heels resting against Steve’s ass. “We’re alone now,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “If you want to take advantage of that, then—” Tony’s cut off by Steve’s mouth on his and he sinks into the kiss, unable to stop the noise that escapes when Steve hooks his arms underneath Tony’s ass and lifts him off the counter.

Looping his arms around Steve’s neck, Tony nips at his bottom lip, laughing when Steve stumbles in his efforts to walk them to the bedroom. “Keep it steady, soldier.”

“Stop being a tease,” Steve replies, fingers digging into Tony’s ass in the best way as the door to the bedroom opens automatically.

Tony almost expects to be dropped onto the bed, but Steve doesn’t do that; instead he stops by the edge of the bed, tilts his head to look at Tony, and the smile that crosses his face is one Tony’s only ever seen directed at him. It’s never anything less than breathtaking and Tony still doesn’t know how to react to it, to the way that smile just says everything that Steve sometimes can’t put into words; it’s like a rope tugging tight around his heart, reminding him that he finally has this, that he finally has Steve all to himself, probably forever, if he’s lucky.

He hopes he’s lucky.

Pushing that out of his mind, Tony presses his fingers at the base of Steve’s neck and smiles when Steve curses softly, almost losing his grip on Tony. “There we go,” Tony whispers as Steve lowers him down onto the bed. “Lemme see you,” he says, gesturing at Steve.

There’s a flush all along Steve’s skin as he strips his t-shirt off, it vanishes into the waistband of his sweatpants, hurriedly pulled on when Morgan started banging on their door that morning, and Tony scoots to the edge of the bed, fingers coming up to tug the sweatpants down. Steve’s hands cover his and Tony looks up, feeling a pout forming on his face. “But I—”

“Let me take care of you,” Steve says quietly.

“You’re really turning down a blow job?”

“Postponing,” Steve says with a grin. “Not turning down.”

“Well,” Tony says, dropping his hands and moving back on the bed. “I should hope not, we’ve got big problems if you’re turning down a blow job, or, more specifically, one of my blow jobs.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yep,” Tony says proudly, leaning back against the pillows. “What are you going to do about it?”

The words have barely left his mouth before Steve’s on the bed, his body carefully covering Tony’s. “Just wait,” he says quietly, fingers coming up to trace the curve of Tony’s mouth.

“Steve—”

“I love you,” Steve says, dropping his hand to the expanse of Tony’s neck before pressing a soft kiss against Tony’s mouth. “Whether it’s you and me, you and me and Morgan, or just me. I love you, and I’m always going to love you.”

Staring up at Steve, Tony can’t help but catalogue all the small changes that took place in their time apart, how the years of battle and struggle have worn their ways into Steve’s entire being; how, no matter how hard Tony tries, he’ll never be able to erase the deep sadness that still lurks behind Steve’s eyes sometimes. And he gets it, he does, he’s sure he has the same look behind his eyes, but it kills him a little more each time he realises he can’t do anything about it.

“Too much?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed. “Tony—”

“No,” Tony says quietly. “Not too much, I just—I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he rears back a little. “For what? Sweetheart—”

“For not realising what we could have sooner.”

“Tony, no, God, please,” Steve says, letting out a breath and running a hand down Tony’s face, smiling when Tony turns into the touch. “Do I regret everything that happened with the accords? Yes, for all of us, but after that, you—you got Morgan, and you’re such an incredible father, Tony. You were happy—”

“I’m happy with you—”

“But you were happy with Pepper and Morgan as well,” Steve says, a sad smile on his face. “And that’s okay, I just—” Steve breaks off and sighs. “We can’t live in the past, or with regrets about what we did or didn’t do, we have this, us, now, and that has to be enough for us. It’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. And if you think there’s any doubt in my mind about that then I need to get back to what I was going to do,” Steve says with a soft smile, his hand sliding underneath Tony’s shirt. “If you want?”

“Do you think I’m going to say no?”

“Just checking.”

Tony reaches up and tangles his fingers through Steve’s hair, relishing in the feel of him here and real. Tugging him down, Tony kisses him, letting himself get lost in it, trying to push the memory of all their missed years out of his head. Running his hand down the expanse of Steve’s back, Tony presses his fingers against the dip just above Steve’s ass, wanting to pull him even closer, but feeling like no matter how close they get, it’ll never be enough.

“Hey,” Steve mumbles against Tony’s mouth. “Take your shirt off and turn over, let me—”

“Yeah,” Tony says as Steve pushes himself up, giving Tony room to move. “I want you.”

“You got me.”

Tony strips his t-shirt off and goes to push his sweatpants down his legs, but Steve stops him and instead does it for him, leaving Tony naked on the bed. With anyone else, Tony would feel exposed with all the scars that Strange couldn’t heal on view, his aging body and greying hair, but Steve—Steve looks at him like he’s all he’s ever wanted. More than that, he makes Tony believe that he’s all Steve’s ever wanted.

Leaning down, Steve presses a kiss against Tony’s hip. “Turn over,” he says, breath brushing over Tony’s skin.

At the gentle tap of Steve’s fingers against his thigh, Tony rolls over, turning his head to the side and curling his arms under his pillow. There’s no noise from behind him for a long period of time, and he’s about to look over his shoulder when he feels the sensation of Steve’s tongue swiping across his skin. “Oh,” he mumbles. “You don’t have—”

“I want to,” Steve says, teeth grazing against Tony’s ass. “I missed this, missed you.” Steve’s hands press against Tony’s thighs, slowly pushing them apart before tracing the tips of his fingers over Tony’s hole; Tony can’t help the reaction he has, hitching his hips up against the touch, wanting so much to have Steve inside him. The next thing he knows, Steve’s hands are on his ass, palms hot against his skin, and then—then Steve’s tongue is on him and it’s all Tony can do not to push himself back against Steve’s face.

They did this before, once, years ago, and then—then everything fell apart. Then the world almost ended. Tony didn’t think he’d get this ever again, and he definitely didn’t think Steve would be so goddamn enthusiastic about it. There’s a flush spreading across Tony’s face at the way Steve’s eating him out, the noises he’s making, the way he’s gripping Tony’s hip firmly to hold him in place, and it’s all going straight to Tony’s cock, dragging against the sheets every time Steve moves him.

“Steve— _fuck_ , can you—” Tony breaks off with a whine at the long swipe of Steve’s tongue along his hole. “Goddamnit.”

“What is it, baby?” Steve asks, chin resting against Tony’s ass. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder at Steve’s smug smile. “Come on.”

“Say it.”

“You’re asking the guy in his fifties to hold out, you’re very optimistic,” Tony huffs out. “I could come right now, bam, night over.”

“Tony—”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, lifting his head up and reaching over for the lube in the bedside table. Pressing a kiss against Tony’s lower back, Steve smiles against Tony’s skin. “And I love you.”

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat. “Steve—” he’s cut off by two of Steve’s fingers pushing inside him, and he wants to protest that he doesn’t need it, that he’s ready, but Steve’s touch is always so fucking gentle, always so reverant, that Tony can’t bring himself to say a word.

Instead, he lets Steve stretch him until he’s satisfied, lets Steve cover him with his body as he guides his cock inside him, and—. The feeling of Steve filling him so completely isn’t ever going to be anything other than perfect.

“Tony, fuck,” Steve breathes out into Tony’s hair. “You—” Steve holds him tight, rolls them both over onto their sides, and starts to move.

Tony tips his head back at the slow drag of Steve’s cock inside him, biting out a groan when Steve picks up the pace, Steve’s hand gripping Tony’s thigh as he fucks him. “I need—”

“You can come like this,” Steve says, tracing his fingers along Tony’s inner thigh, not getting anywhere near where Tony wants him to be. “I know you can.”

“Want your hands on me,” Tony says. “Want you touching my cock, want you all around me, want—”

“You want to be mine?”

“Am yours,” Tony says. “Always yours.”

Steve’s mouth is on his neck, teeth grazing over the skin, and Tony knows he’s going to be a goddamn fifty three year old walking around with a hickey, but there’s not one part of him that cares; not when Steve’s got the angle just right, and he’s got his hand wrapped around Tony’s cock, and—.

Tony’s saying Steve’s name over and over again as he comes, spilling all over Steve’s hand, and he would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that Steve’s wrapped all around him as he buries himself inside Tony, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Steve’s hand comes up, smearing Tony’s own come all over Tony’s chest, and Steve’s got his palm right over Tony’s heart as he comes, cock pulsing deep inside Tony.

They’re a mess, sweat, come and lube all over the sheets and Tony couldn’t give less of a fuck because Steve’s right here with him, still inside him, the two of them as deeply connected as it’s possible to be. Trying to catch his breath, Tony leans back against Steve’s chest, one hand reaching up to tangle with the one Steve has over his chest, and for one precious moment, Tony’s completely at peace.

*

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better take a look at this.”

Tony looks up from where he’s been going over the plans for the Brooklyn building to see Peter on the news, attempting to fight off what look like— “are those Hammer droids?”

“Huh?”

“You weren’t around for—Justin Hammer, terminal douchebag, should be in a prison but apparently—” He taps on his tablet and brings up the Avenger comms. “FRIDAY? Connect me to the kid?”

It takes a moment but then Peter’s voice comes through the comms. “Mr Stark?”

“You need help?”

“Uh, I—”

“Say the word and we’ll be there,” Tony says, already reaching for the AR. He doesn’t wear it all the time, not anymore, but he still keeps it within reach at all times. Judging by what he’s seeing on the screen, it was the right choice.

“I think—yeah, yes, there’s too many and I—”

“Be there soon, kid,” Tony says. “Keep the comms open.” Tony grimaces and attaches the AR before glancing over at Steve. “You coming? Sounds like the kid could do with some help.”

“Got a new shield for me?”

“You know I do,” Tony says, opening a drawer by the window as Steve pulls on the suit. “T’Challa sent over the raw material, I was going to surprise you.”

“So you hid it in our bedroom?”

“Kind of tapped for space until we move, honey, and is that really what you want to focus on right now?”

Steve grins, zips up the suit, and takes a few steps over to Tony, taking the shield from him. Cupping Tony’s face with one hand, Steve kisses Tony softly. “You sure you want to get back in the field?”

“The kid needs help,” Tony says with a helpless shrug. “I gotta.”

There’s a nod from Steve and then Tony taps the AR, letting the suit wash over him. “FRIDAY? Get me a location,” he says, holding an arm out to Steve. “Want a lift?”

“We really need a jet again,” Steve says as he follows Tony out to the landing bay, looping an arm around his waist.

“You love flying with me,” Tony says as he takes off. “Adrenaline junkie.”

There’s no response from Steve and Tony grins inside the suit, knowing he’s right. FRIDAY’s got them on a path to Queens and it’s not long before they touch down; Peter’s doing an admirable job of taking the droids on, and Tony can see Strange and Wong in the thick of it. “Where are the wonder twins?”

“Stop calling them that,” Steve says, using his shield to decapitate several droids at once. “And I think they’re making their way back from Boston, last Bucky said.”

“We do need a jet,” Tony mutters. “I’ll put it on the list. Hey, has anyone seen Hammer?” he asks as Peter swings by him. “Sleazy dude, wants to be me but fails miserably? FRIDAY, any hits?”

“No, boss, but there’s something giving off energy a few blocks away.”

“Energy like—”

“Like it’ll explode.”

Tony aims his repulsors at the droids blocking his way and shoots off in the direction FRIDAY’s showing him. The signature grows hotter the closer he gets and when he finally reaches it, he pauses. “Uh. What am I looking at?”

There’s a giant droid, almost Hulk sized, standing in the middle of the street; he’s not moving, but there’s a screen in his chest that seems to be showing—.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony says. “Hammer? You’re doing this from prison?”

“Anthony! So glad to see you,” Justin says on the screen. “Thought we lost you there for a moment, but you’re up and about, even banging Captain America from what I hear. Got a kid, too, that’s nice, not everyone gets to do that.”

“Tony? Bucky and Sam are here,” Steve says through the comms. “I’m coming to you.”

“What’s the point of this?” Tony asks as FRIDAY scans the droid, looking for a weak spot. “You’re in prison, nothing is going to change.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Justin says. “You’re still alive. You shouldn’t be. I heard all about it. You haven’t been out, either, doing the whole superhero gig. Just tucked away in your tower with your boy toy, and I mean, really, what is the point in—”

“Boss, the droid is getting ready to blow,” FRIDAY interrupts as Justin keeps talking.

“What?” comes Steve’s voice in Tony’s ear. “Tony get out of there, now.”

“I—” is all Tony manages to get out before there’s an almighty explosion and he’s thrown into the air, the evacuated buildings crumbling around him, bricks and concrete hitting the suit. He can hear Steve’s voice in his ear and then.

Then nothing.

*

There’s a firm grip on Tony’s hand and a weight on his side, along with the familiar beeping, and—.

Slowly.

Slowly.

He wakes up.

Morgan’s curled up on the hospital bed with him, fast asleep, and when Tony turns his head, he sees Steve there. It’s his hand gripping Tony’s tightly, and Tony squeezes back, a half smile on his face when Steve looks up. “Hi,” he says quietly, his voice rough.

Steve lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Tony’s hand; his eyes glistening as he does so, and Tony swallows, guilt flooding him at the thought of having put Steve through this again. At having put Morgan through this.

“Peter’s safe, at home with May. You’re on painkillers,” Steve says, not letting go of Tony’s hand. “But it’s only bruised ribs, nothing else.”

“You?”

“I healed.”

Tony fixes him with a look. “Steve.”

“I cracked some bones trying to cover you from the worst of it,” Steve says, a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m fine.”

“How long?”

“How long were you out?”

“Yeah.”

“Not long,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand. “Pepper brought Morgan a couple of hours ago.”

Tony looks down at her, she’s barely resting her hand on him, like she’s worried she’s going to hurt him, and he closes his eyes. “Did she see it?”

“No,” Steve says. “No, she just knows you got hurt.”

“That’s bad enough,” Tony says. “She shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Unless you’re planning on retiring, then she might have to for a while longer,” Steve says, thumb rubbing the back of Tony’s hand.

“Not retiring, but—”

“What?” Steve asks when Tony doesn’t finish his sentence. “Tony?”

“I need to think about it some more, but remember extremis?”

“The thing that almost killed Pepper? Tony—”

“I can make it work, I know I can. I haven’t, yet, because people are scared of that kind of tech, but—”

“Daddy?” Morgan mumbles, lifting her head. “Daddy, you’re awake!”

Tony ducks the look Steve’s shooting him, the one that says they’ll be talking about it later, and instead focuses on Morgan. “Hey bunny,” he says, as she pushes herself onto her knees, one hand resting on his chest. “How’re you doing?”

“M’good,” she says, fingers trailing up and down his chest. “Mommy said you’d wake up. So did Steve.”

“Did they? Well, they were right, weren’t they?”

“Uh huh. Can we go and buy a toy now?”

Tony laughs, pulling her in and kissing the top of her head. “Maybe next time. Daddy needs to rest for a while.”

“I could take her,” Steve says hesitantly. “If she—if you—”

“What do you say Morguna? Want to go shopping with Steve? I bet if you give him those wide eyes he’d buy you a milkshake.”

“Tony—”

“Milkshake!” Morgan yells, clambering over the bed and launching herself at Steve, her knees barely missing his crotch. “Can we? Chocolate one?”

“Oh Pepper’s gonna love me taking her home on a sugar high,” Steve says with a smile as he stands up with Morgan in his arms, hitching her up on his hip with ease. “Rhodey said he’d come by, I’ll text him and tell him we’re out, okay?”

“I can be alone, you know.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be.” Steve leans down, still holding Morgan, and kisses Tony, breaking the kiss when they both start laughing at Morgan’s noise of protest. “Come on, give your dad a kiss,” Steve says, holding her above Tony.

“Bye, kiddo,” Tony says as she drops kisses all over his face, giggling as Steve lifts her up and down. “Love you.”

“3000,” Morgan says with a smile, patting Tony’s face.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “3000.”

*

Rhodey brings pizza, which makes the subsequent lecture about safety somewhat more palatable, though Tony gets the feeling Rhodey’s only doing it because Pepper isn’t around to do it anymore. A nurse side eyes the pizza, and Tony laughs as Rhodey charms his way out of a scolding and ends up getting her number.

“Now who’s got game?” Rhodey says, waving his phone in front of Tony’s face.

“I have Steve,” Tony stresses. “And technically I’m still married.”

“I don’t know if that means you win or lose.”

“Both, probably.” Tony leans back against the pillows and sighs. “Did I make a mistake?”

“With your outfits in 1994? Yes.”

“Okay, A, I looked stylish, it was the nineties, and B, that’s not what I meant.”

“No you didn’t, but go on.”

“I still have those velvet pants somewhere, do you think—”

“Tony.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah. Getting back into it. Putting the suit on again. Was it a mistake? Am I damaging Morgan?”

“Hey, no, come on,” Rhodey says instantly. “No, you’re not damaging Morgan, she’s the happiest kid I’ve ever met, it’s kind of disgusting actually, and I hope she’s gonna give you hell as a teenager, but—Tones, come on.”

“How do I know? How do I know she’s not going to suddenly turn around and be like, dad, you ruined my life because you wouldn’t leave that damn suit alone?”

“She loves you. With or without the suit,” Rhodey says, sitting back in the chair. “If you want to quit, then you can quit, but Morgan’s fine, Tony. She’s more than fine.”

“She deserves a dad who is gonna be around,” Tony says. “I’m already old, and she—I can’t guarantee I’ll be here for her. Almost wasn’t, if it weren’t for Strange then—”

“Okay, but no parent can guarantee that. It’s always a risk.”

“Most parents don’t jump into a suit and fight super villains.”

“If you want to measure yourself against other parents then you’re always going to be failing. All parents who do that end up failing.”

Tony’s quiet at that, staring across the room at nothing, really, thoughts zooming around his brain. “I told Steve that I can make extremis work.”

“Can you?”

“Pretty sure, yep.”

“Huh. For you, or—”

“Hey if you want it—”

“I don’t know,” Rhodey interrupts, holding a hand up. “Really, I don’t. What did Steve say?”

“Didn’t have time to say anything, Morgan woke up, so—” Tony breaks off and shrugs. “He’s scared, only knows what happened with Killian’s victims and Pepper, but he—I mean, look at him. He’s almost forty and still in peak physical condition, he can pick Morgan up like she weighs nothing, hell he can pick _me_ up like I weigh nothing, I don’t think he understands what I—. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, right? I’m still alive, that should be enough.”

“When have you ever been able to stop at enough?” Rhodey questions with a fond smile. “Tony, you know I get it, but you need to talk to him. He loves you, he’ll understand.”

“Thanks, honeybear.”

*

“So,” Steve says, curled up on the couch, Tony’s head in his lap. “Extremis.”

“Now? You want to bring this up now?” Tony protests, even as he sinks deeper into the couch as Steve’s fingers run through his hair.

“Seems like as good a time as any,” Steve says mildly, fingertips pressing against Tony’s head gently. “Tell me why you want to do it.”

“I’m old—”

“Tony—”

“It’s not a vanity thing, I don’t care about the grey hair, or wrinkles, I—” Tony sighs. “I knew having a kid this late would mean certain things, that maybe I wouldn’t be around, or that I wouldn’t be able to be as active, but now that I have her? Steve, I almost died. Did, technically, and I—that haunts me.”

“You could give up the suit,” Steve says as Tony looks up at him. “If it’s about being safe, then no one would blame—”

“It’s not just about that. You—the serum keeps you from aging as rapidly as the rest of us, you look older than when we first met, but it’s not—sometimes the years between us seem a lot more than they actually are.”

“I was born in 1918—”

“If we’re counting from then, I have permission to mock Bucky for robbing the cradle,” Tony interrupts. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Tony, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters to me,” Tony says firmly. “I want to be there for Morgan, I want to have a life, a full life, with you, and extremis can help me do that. It wouldn’t make me younger, not in the way you think, but it would extend what I have left, give me an extra oomph. Protect me. Think of it as an insurance policy.”

“Extra oomph?” Steve repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Science term,” Tony says, smiling up at him. “I know you might not fully understand the why of it all, but I don’t want to do it for me, I want to do it for us, for Morgan. Can you understand that?”

Steve goes silent, looking down at Tony, his brow furrowed as he runs his index finger along Tony’s face, tracing the lines by his eyes, the shape of his goatee, the curve of his lips, and Tony’s heart aches with the tenderness he’s being shown.

“I don’t like the idea of you playing with something that might end badly,” Steve says, eventually, fingers resting over Tony’s clavicle. “I trust you to not take chances, but you’ve said yourself that extremis is unpredictable, and the thought of losing you terrifies me. But I do trust you, Tony. I trust you to make the right decision for yourself, for Morgan, for our future.”

“So—”

“I support you,” Steve says. “That goes without saying, but if you need me to say it then I will, I support you. Whatever you need.”

“Then I guess I’ve got work to do.”

*

Tony hadn’t been lying when he said he could make it work, but between getting the Brooklyn building together, looking after Morgan, designing for SI, and wanting to have a life with Steve, he’s short on time. Plus, the Hammer incident keeps playing on his mind, and—.

He’s fucking tired.

So, of course, that’s when the press manage to corner him outside a Starbucks a few blocks away from the building he and Steve have moved into temporarily. There’s photographers and video cameras pressed against the glass, and he wishes he’d thought to put the AR on before leaving, but all Morgan wanted was one of the “bluebee muffins from ‘bucks, daddy”, and he realised he could do with a coffee and. And now this.

Fuck.

“Sorry about this,” he says to the staff, dropping some notes in the tip jar. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Sure, Mr. Stark,” the cashier says. “We’ve got a back entrance if you—”

“Thanks, but they’ll be out there as well,” he says, offering a sharp smile as he clutches the paper bag with the muffin in. “Time to face the music,” he mutters under his breath as he pushes the door open.

There’s an instant assault of noise and flashes as he steps outside, reporters yelling questions at him, Pepper’s name mentioned a lot, Steve mentioned even more, and Tony’s doing his best to ignore it all until—.

“How are we meant to trust a hero who was screwing around on his wife?”

Later, he’ll blame the lack of sleep, he’ll blame the pressure, but really, he just wanted to punch the guy.

So he did.

The flashes get brighter at that, more questions and comments being yelled at him, but Happy’s there and then he’s being ushered into a car, muffin and coffee still in hand, and—.

“Did I just punch a journalist?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Tony sits back in the seat and looks at Happy. “When did you get here?”

“Steve sent me after you, your outing was being broadcast on CNN.”

“Of course it was,” Tony sighs. “Well. At least I got the muffin.”

Rubbing his forehead, Tony winces at the pain in his knuckles and pulls out his phone, wincing again when it starts buzzing in his hand. Pepper’s face is on the screen and he groans, answering it. “Hi,” he says as they pull up outside the building. “Give me a moment.”

“Tony—”

“Not a blow off, Pep, I just gotta get inside.” Tony nods at Happy and slides out of the car, quickly rushing inside and ducking inside the stairwell. “Okay, yell at me.”

“I don’t want to yell at you,” Pepper says tiredly. “Everyone heard what he said. I get why you—”

“Pepper, I’m sorry I did what I did, but is there a point to this call? Because Steve and Morgan are waiting for me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “I was calling you as a friend,” Pepper says after a moment of silence, a hurt note to her voice.

Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry. There’s just—I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. But I made my own bed.”

“Tony—”

“Pep, I appreciate the call, I do, but my hand is aching and I really need to—”

“Talk to Steve, I know. I know.” Pepper curses under her breath and Tony doesn’t know if he was meant to hear it or not.

“Pep—”

“Goodbye, Tony.”

And she hangs up. Tony wants to bang his head against the wall, but instead he gets out of the stairwell and heads to the elevator, waving his FOB over the reader and hitting the PH button.

When the elevator opens, Steve’s standing there waiting for him, and Tony just walks out of the elevator and falls into Steve’s arms, sighing as Steve holds him close.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve says, hand cupping the back of Tony’s head. “How’s your hand?”

“Sore.”

“I bet. That was some punch.”

“Proud of me?”

“Always,” Steve says without hesitation.

“Thanks for sending Hap,” Tony says, leaning back to meet Steve’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Morgan was giving you the face,” Steve says, brushing their mouths together in a soft kiss. “And we can’t let them keep us inside all the time, that’s not—we can’t live like that.”

“I saved the muffin,” he says, holding the bag up. “Where is she?”

“Watching My Little Pony,” Steve says, taking the bag. “I’ll put this on a plate and bring you an ice pack.”

“My hero,” Tony says with a soft smile, kissing him on the cheek and walking off to find his daughter.

She’s slumped on the couch in front of the television, bright coloured ponies on the screen, and Tony pauses in the doorway watching her for a moment, just taking in all that she is, that she’s safe, that she’s happy, despite everything around her. Taking a breath, Tony walks in and sits on the couch next to her. “Hey munchkin,” he says, smiling when she clambers onto his lap. “You good?”

“Muffin?”

Tony snorts, pressing a kiss against her hair. “It’s coming, Steve’s bringing it.”

Morgan hums to herself and leans back, the top of her head bumping against Tony’s chin. “That’s Applejack,” she says, pointing at the screen. “Like Steve.”

“Steve’s a pony?”

“Uh huh,” Morgan says. “Applejack.”

“Am I a pony?”

“No, you’re a daddy.”

“Oh, okay,” Tony says, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Of course.”

“Hey,” Steve says, leaning over the back of the couch and kissing Tony’s cheek, handing him the ice pack. “Put this on.”

Walking around the couch, Steve sits next to Tony and puts the muffin in front of Morgan. “For you,” he says with a soft smile.

“Bluebee!” Morgan exclaims, taking the plate from Steve carefully and smiling at him. “Thank you.”

Tony sits there with the ice pack on his hand and watches Morgan offer some muffin to Steve, watches how Steve ducks his head and eats it from her hand as she pushes it into his face. Morgan giggles in Tony’s lap as Steve pretends to eat her hand as well, making monster noises, and Tony presses the ice pack against his knuckles and smiles.

*

The penthouse is comfortable, Tony guesses, but it’s not theirs, and he so desperately wants something to be theirs. He hates the fleeting nature of whatever this is, that he can’t build a proper home for Morgan, that Steve can’t have somewhere to paint, that his workshop is one room behind a lock that Morgan can’t open yet. The bots are at the newly reopened compound, and he has a workshop there, but—he just wants to be able to do what he does with his family in the same building.

The more unstable this all feels, the more Tony feels like he’s going to lose it; that he’s going to wake up one morning and Steve will be gone, Morgan won’t be around, and he’ll be alone like he was for so many years. Sighing, he stares up at the ceiling, looking down at Steve’s arm curled around him and tries to take comfort in the simple touch.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks in a sleepy tone.

“Nothing,” Tony says instinctively before wincing. “I mean. Ugh, sorry, go back to sleep.”

“Mmm, no,” Steve says, and Tony hears the soft shuffle of the sheets as Steve moves, feels the kiss Steve presses underneath his jaw. “Not if you’re not okay.”

“Sap.”

“Concerned.”

“I want our home to be ready,” Tony says after a moment. “I’m tired of living like this, and I know, penthouse in Manhattan, not exactly something to complain about, and I’m not, but—”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I want to start our life together as well.”

“Oh.” Tony pauses, realisation hitting him like a dart between the eyes.

“What?”

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

Steve shifts, pushing himself up on an elbow to look at Tony. “Like what?”

“That we’re starting our life together. That that’s what the home and the—everything—is about.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve says with a small smile. “That’s what it’s about.”

Tony returns the smile, not caring how utterly goofy they both must look, staring at each other like this. “I just—I can’t help thinking that it’s going to be taken away. That you’re going to be taken away.”

“Not going to happen,” Steve says instantly. “I’m not going anywhere. Tony—” Steve reaches for Tony’s hand, threading their fingers together. “This is _it_. You’re it. All I want. I’d give up the shield tomorrow if I got to keep you.”

“Steve—”

“I would.”

“You can’t promise that,” Tony says weakly. “You—people have made promises to me before, hell I’ve made promises, and they’ve all been broken, every one. You made a promise and—”

“I broke it. I know. I’m going to regret that the rest of my life,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand lightly. “When Bruce called, I—I wanted it to be you, so badly. When Carol got you back to earth I thought—God, I was just so glad you were alive—”

“You too.”

“But I deserved it,” Steve says with a sad smile. “What you said, that I wasn’t there to fight with you, that’s on me—”

“It’s not—”

“It is.”

Tony blinks back tears and rubs his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. “That’s not what this is about,” he says. “And that wasn’t all on you. It wasn’t. Both of us shoulder that. What came after that, I—I made a promise to Pepper and I couldn’t keep it.”

“Because of me.”

“No,” Tony says. “Because of _me_. Because I wanted you, will always want you, and I—”

“Do you think that’s not the same for me?” Steve interrupts, sitting up abruptly. “Do you honestly think that, given all we’ve gone through to get here, that I’d leave you?”

“That’s not what I—” Tony cuts himself off, kicking at the sheets tangled around his legs as he sits up, still holding onto Steve’s hand. “I don’t—that’s not what I mean,” he says, feeling lost, staring at their joined hands. “I mean—”

“Sweetheart,” Steve says in a soft tone. “If you want to just go to sleep then—”

“No. No, I—” Tony pauses, taking in a breath and looking at Steve. “I don’t think you’ll leave me, not like how you think, but I—” he breaks off and shakes his head sadly. “I did. I left Pepper. It would be the least I deserve.”

“You don’t deserve to be left,” Steve says, leaning in and brushing his lips over Tony’s forehead, placing gentle kisses down the side of Tony’s face. “This isn’t—there’s no punishment from the universe for leaving Pepper, for wanting to be with me. I’m not leaving you. Not again. Not ever.” He brings a hand up to cup Tony’s face, thumb grazing over Tony’s mouth. “You might not think I can promise that, but I’m telling you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise, it’s not—that’s not possible.”

“They told me I couldn’t join the army, either,” Steve says. “Look what happened.”

“God, I feel so fucking guilty,” Tony breathes out, ducking his head, forehead coming to rest on Steve’s shoulder. “Not for being with you, not for making that choice, but for not feeling guilty about it.”

“Tony—”

“I love you, I want to be with you,” Tony says against Steve’s skin. “I’m so happy with you, but I—”

“Tony, you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel guilty about hurting someone you love,” Steve says, running a hand through Tony’s hair.

Savouring the touch, Tony sighs heavily, moving until he can get his arms around Steve, until he can crawl into his lap, wanting—needing—the skin on skin contact. “Steve, I need—”

“Whatever you want.”

“Your hands, just—” Tony leans back and meets Steve’s eyes. “Touch me.”

Those words are all it takes for Steve to wrap his hand around Tony’s cock, slowly stroking him hard; he kisses Tony like he needs to prove something, and maybe he does after what Tony’s just laid on him, maybe this is how he’s trying to show he’s not going to leave. All Tony knows is that it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard in Steve’s grip, desperately seeking the friction to get himself off. A whine escapes his mouth as Steve lets go, quickly opening the bedside table drawer and grabbing the lube, slicking his hand up before touching Tony again, sliding his fingers lightly down Tony’s cock as he kisses Tony’s cheek.

“Not gonna leave you,” Steve’s muttering against Tony’s skin. “Not—couldn’t—not again.”

Tony looks down, Steve’s big hand engulfing his cock, thumb brushing over the head every now and then, and Tony lets out a broken sob. “Steve—”

“Trust me,” Steve says, mouth brushing over Tony’s lips in a faint echo of a kiss. “I can’t—wouldn’t survive without you.”

And maybe it’s that which sends Tony over the edge, maybe it’s Steve admitting he’s as deep in this as Tony is that has Tony coming harder than he ever has from a handjob before, fingers gripping Steve’s shoulders, pressing marks into Steve’s skin that won’t last more than a few minutes.

Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s just that Steve is what he needs, not just in this moment, but always.

Steve kisses him softly, messily, like he can’t stand not kissing him, and Tony falls into it, holding on tight and hoping that this time it’s enough.

*

Tony’s caught up in the screens in front of him, rubbing his eyes as he tries to fix the last of what he needs to get extremis to work.

“Hey,” Steve calls from the doorway. “There’s dinner upstairs if you can take a break.”

“Who cooked?”

“Sam,” Steve says, walking into the workshop. “How’s it going?”

“Almost there,” Tony says, letting out a groan when Steve rubs his shoulders. “Okay, yeah, break time, _God_ that feels good. FRIDAY, save what I’ve been doing.”

“I would say you’re working too hard, but you’ve barely been able to work on this lately,” Steve says, thumbs brushing over the back of Tony’s neck. “You want to stay here tonight? Carry on working?”

“You say things like that and I’ll get on my knees for you,” Tony says with a smirk as he spins around on his stool to face Steve. “I—would you mind?”

“You getting on your knees?”

“The filth that comes out of your mouth, I don’t know what I—”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did,” Steve interrupts, fingers running along Tony’s jawline. “Stay, work on it, we have a room here.”

Tony leans into the touch of Steve’s hands on his face, letting out a slight sigh as Steve leans down and kisses him softly, tongue sliding over Tony’s bottom lip in a way that makes Tony want to skip dinner and just stay in the workshop making out all evening. “You’re a distraction,” Tony says with regret.

“I’m kind of proud of that,” Steve says in a low tone as he straightens up. “Come on, have dinner with us, then you can come down here and get back to work.”

“Are you staying?”

“I can,” Steve says with a shrug, slipping his hand into Tony’s as they head out of the workshop. “If you want me to.”

“Will I sound horrifically co dependent if I say yes?”

“Maybe, but I won’t say anything.”

Tony nudges him with his elbow and laughs. “You can’t be in the workshop, though. I meant what I said, you’re a distraction.”

“I can entertain myself without you.”

“Can you?”

“I’ll have FRIDAY film it for you if you like,” Steve says, voice full of heat. “Or would that be a distraction as well?”

Tony stops in the hallway and stares at him for a moment before he leans in and catches Steve’s mouth in a filthy kiss, hands sliding up underneath Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing patterns along his skin. “You—” Tony breaks the kiss, licking his lips at how flushed Steve’s face is. “Terrible. No one believes me when I say Captain America is a perv.”

“How many people are you telling?” Steve asks, dipping his head for another kiss, his hands gripping Tony’s ass as he leans back against the wall, dragging Tony with him.

There’s a reassurance in being able to let go, Tony thinks, in being able to sink against Steve’s body and know he’ll be there to hold him up, and he goes with it, losing himself in Steve’s kisses, in the way Steve’s hands are solidly on his ass and it’s—.

“Do you visit just to try and fuck in the hallway, or what?” comes Bucky’s voice.

It’s a laugh from Steve that breaks the kiss, and Tony leans his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, smiling to himself at the fact that Steve hasn’t moved his hands from Tony’s ass.

“I’ve caught you doing worse,” Steve says. “And technically we own this hallway.”

“Your boy owns this hallway, not you.”

“Eh,” Tony says, as he detangles himself from Steve before slipping his arm around Steve’s waist. “What’s mine is his, so yeah, we own it.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “What he said.”

“I don’t know why anyone was surprised by you two getting together,” Bucky says. “You may as well be married.”

“Gotta wait for the divorce to come through first,” Tony says with a tight smile. “But thanks.”

“Aw, shit, I didn’t—you know I didn’t mean—” Bucky sighs. “Come on, Sam’s made lasagne. You can be gross and mushy over pasta.”

“I know you didn’t mean—”

“No,” Bucky says. “I shouldn’t make jokes about it.”

“You didn’t, technically,” Tony says. “Look, I’m just—” he breaks off and glances at Steve. “We haven’t talked about marriage—”

“And we don’t have to,” Steve interrupts. “So why don’t we just leave it?”

“Do you think I don’t want to marry you?” Tony asks as they walk into the kitchen, arm slipping from around Steve’s waist as he turns to face him. “Steve, what the hell?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m gonna—” Bucky looks over at Sam and sighs. “Go over there.”

“Tony, I said we don’t have to talk about it,” Steve says quietly as Bucky walks away. “And we don’t have to do it here.”

“Yes we do, because for some reason you think I don’t want to marry you,” Tony says, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him into a corner, something settling in his gut when Steve goes with him willingly. “Steve, I—”

“I didn’t say that I think you don’t want to marry me,” Steve says. “It’s complicated for you right now, I get it.”

“For us,” Tony says. “Not just for me, for us.”

“Okay. For us. Tony, I know what getting divorced is costing you, not financially, but emotionally. I know it’s tough. I know that marrying me would—” Steve breaks off and sighs, taking Tony’s hand and pressing his lips to the back of it in a soft kiss. “I love you. And I’m going to stay with you whatever happens. I’ve seen the press attack you for this, because of us, and I don’t want you to have to go through that again if we got married. Would I like to call you my husband? Yes. More than anything in the world, but not if the process of getting there is going to cause you more pain.”

“Wow,” Tony says, somewhat stunned. “I—yeah. Okay. I hear what you’re saying, but—marry me anyway?”

“Tony—”

“I’m serious. I don’t have a ring, I don’t have anything, and we can’t legally get married for a while, but—” Tony pauses and looks at Steve, takes in the way his hair is falling in his face, the slight stubble on his cheeks, the anticipation in his eyes, and he realises what he has to do. Getting down on one knee, Tony ignores the slight twinge in his thigh, and holds onto Steve’s hand tightly. “Like I said, I don’t have a ring, but I have a promise that I’m never gonna leave you. Marry me? Once we, you know, legally can?”

“Yes,” Steve says, tugging on Tony’s hand. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous idiot, get up here.”

Tony gets to his feet and is met by Steve’s hands on his face, pulling him in for a kiss, and it’s—it’s everything. There’s a flood of relief in his chest and Tony presses himself up against Steve, as close as he can get, just needing to have him near. Breaking the kiss, Steve gives Tony a small, intimate smile before kissing him one more time, so gently that Tony feels like he could shatter.

Slowly, they pull apart, and when Tony looks over, everyone’s staring at them with various looks of amusement on their faces. “Huh,” Tony says. “Didn’t realise everyone was here tonight.”

“Look at it this way,” Rhodey says, waving a piece of garlic bread in the air. “You don’t have to tell us all individually that you’re engaged.”

“Good point,” Tony says as he and Steve walk over to the table, sitting down between Rhodey and Nebula. “But, uh. Don’t tell anyone? If it gets out, then—”

“We get it,” Sam says. “We can all keep our mouths shut.”

“No one outside this planet cares about you anyway,” Rocket says, picking up a tomato and throwing it at Bucky, who catches it without looking.

“That’s... oddly reassuring,” Tony says in bemusement. “Even if it does come from you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Nebula, maim anyone lately?” Tony asks as Steve hands him a plate loaded with food.

“Only Quill,” she says with a small smile. “He touched my knives.”

“Excellent. Where is he, by the way? Didn’t want to spend time with us?”

“He has issues with spending time on Earth,” Rocket says. “Mommy issues. He and Drax and Mantis went off on a mission. Groot went with them. We decided to grace you all with our presence.”

“Aren’t we lucky,” Bucky says with an eye roll as he shoves a forkful of lasagna in his mouth.

“Watch it, I could still take that arm off you,” Rocket says, eyeing him.

“Try it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, trying not to laugh. “Can we move on before someone pulls a weapon out? Has anyone heard anything on Hammer?”

“No,” Sam says. “He’s been quiet since he was moved to solitary, but we all know that means nothing when it comes to assholes like him. If he could put together all that from jail, then—”

“He has someone helping him,” Tony says. “Yeah, I thought about that, but I don’t know who would hate me enough, or who Hammer would trust enough to let them execute his plans.”

“Exactly,” Sam says. “We’re kind of at a dead end unless he, or his accomplice, tries something again. On the plus side, Carol says there’s no aliens coming our way, so I’m calling that a win.”

“That’s something,” Steve says, digging into the food on his plate. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Asgard,” Tony says. “Or New Asgard, whatever we’re calling it. On his way to a conference in Switzerland. Dug up one of the old SI jets and had it reinforced, and since there haven’t been any signs of him falling out of the sky, I’m going to assume it worked. And yes, before you ask, I’m working on new jets for the team.”

From there, the dinner descends into casual chatter, Tony getting caught up in teaching Nebula how to high five, laughing when she questions the point of it. “There’s no point,” he says. “It’s just fun.” Reaching over to grab a cookie from the platter in the middle of the table he looks at her and smiles. “You’re allowed to have fun,” he says, softly. “Remember?”

Nebula nods, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “Yes,” she says. “I remember.”

“Good. Have a cookie.”

*

By the time Tony’s finished in the workshop, his eyes are burning, and he rubs them before instructing FRIDAY to send what he’s done over to Bruce and Shuri for a second and third set of eyes. The suggestions Shuri sent over last time means he’s almost got it, he’s so close he can taste it, and it’s sending a thrum through his veins as he contemplates it.

“Time?” he asks as he stands up, cracking the joints in his neck.

“04:00, boss.”

“Is Steve awake?”

“Just about,” FRIDAY responds.

“Okay. Save it, shut it down.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony runs a hand over DUM-E’s claw before he heads out of the workshop, walking towards the room he and Steve have when they stay at the compound. When he opens the door, he finds FRIDAY’s assessment accurate; Steve’s sitting up in bed, a book on his lap, but his eyes are closed and he’s breathing like he’s asleep. Walking over, Tony picks up the book and slides the bookmark in place, putting it on the bedside table before he brushes a hand over Steve’s hair. “Hey,” he says softly as Steve opens his eyes, a sleepy smile crossing his face. “You stayed awake for me?”

“Tried,” Steve says, leaning into the touch. “You done?”

“Almost. I almost have it. I think. Shuri’s going to take a look at it, tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“She’s good at that.”

“She is,” Tony says, walking away from the bed and tugging his shirt off. Steve’s gaze is on him as Tony walks into the ensuite and brushes his teeth, splashing his face with water and rubbing a towel over it roughly. Back in the bedroom, Tony strips off the rest of his clothing and crawls into the bed, curling up next to Steve. “You manage to entertain yourself without me?” he asks, running his hand down Steve’s chest until he reaches his groin, fingers trailing through the soft curls.

“I—a couple of times—” Steve breathes out, legs spreading as Tony’s hand wraps around his cock. “But if you’re offering—”

“Always,” Tony says, letting go of Steve’s cock before pushing the sheets back and moving down Steve’s body until he’s between his legs, staring up at him. “You want it?”

“Want _you_ ,” Steve says, reaching down, his fingers trailing over Tony’s face. Thumb catching on Tony’s bottom lip, he smiles when Tony kisses it, and settles back on the pillows to watch.

“You got me,” Tony says before he licks a stripe up Steve’s cock, smiling to himself when Steve lets out a slight gasp like it’s something new, like it’s not something Tony’s done so many times before. Taking Steve into his mouth, Tony pauses, enjoying the heavy weight of Steve’s cock, the knowledge that no one else gets him like this.

“Tony, c’mon,” Steve says. “Baby, please—”

The way Steve cuts himself off with a strangled groan as Tony takes him deeper will never stop being hot, and Tony relaxes his throat, wanting to take Steve in as much as he can; he might not be as young as he once was, but when he’s got Steve gripping the sheets so hard that they tear, Tony feels like he could live forever. It doesn’t take long before Steve’s gasping out Tony’s name, coming in his mouth, and Tony swallows as much as he can before pulling off and resting his chin on Steve’s thigh, a deep sense of satisfaction in his bones.

“Come here,” Steve says, reaching down and clumsily grabbing at Tony, guiding him back up his body until Tony’s half on top of him. “I love you,” he says softly, hand threading through Tony’s hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

Tony revels in the softness of Steve’s lips, in the way Steve seems to seek out his own taste, and it’s—. Tony’s happy to get lost in Steve forever.

At some point between kisses they fall asleep, and the next morning Tony wakes up to Steve’s arm thrown over him, his nose rubbing at the nape of Tony’s neck. Smiling into the darkness, Tony covers Steve’s hand with his own, tangling their fingers together and closes his eyes, just enjoying the easy intimacy of the moment.

“Y’wake?” comes Steve’s sleepy voice across his skin.

“Maybe,” Tony says.

“Cute.”

“That’s why you’re gonna marry me,” Tony says, squeezing Steve’s hand before letting go and turning around to face Steve. “Right?”

“Gonna marry you for more reasons than that,” Steve says as he opens his eyes. “But sure.”

“Steve—”

“Did you think I’d change my mind?”

“No, I—maybe.”

“What part of I’m going to stay with you whatever happens did you not understand?” Steve asks, a fond smile on his face.

“I—nevermind,” Tony says. “Overthinking.”

“You? I’m shocked.”

“Hey, is that—”

“Boss?” FRIDAY interrupts. “You wanted to know when Shuri responded?”

“Oh.” Tony sits up and grabs his tablet. “Thanks, FRIDAY,” he says, already opening the email. Scanning it, he pauses before re-reading it three more times.

“Tony?”

“It works,” Tony whispers. “She thinks it will work.”

Steve sits up, curling his arms around Tony before he presses a kiss against his bedhead, holding him tightly.

“Steve, it—”

“I know,” Steve says. “I know.”

“Holy shit.”

*

Tony sits and looks at his phone before letting out a sigh. Steve’s at the compound running through drills and Tony’s meant to be working, putting in some actual hours at the Manhattan office they’ve managed to get Stark Industries operating out of, but he—. Ugh. “FRIDAY, call Pepper,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Tony?” comes Pepper’s voice down the line. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I—do you have time to meet up with me today?”

“Uh, yes, I think I do. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Promise, Pep, it’s important but not life threatening.”

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence,” Pepper says. “I can be free in about an hour? Are you in your office?”

“Getting that paperwork done,” Tony says. “I swear.”

“Uh huh,” Pepper says, and Tony can hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll be by in a little while, Tony.”

Tony hesitates, not sure how to end the call. “Bye, Pep,” he eventually gets out.

“Bye, Tony.”

Tony leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up on the desk. “FRIDAY, what do you think I should lead with? That I’m going to marry Steve or that I’m using extremis?”

“I’m not sure Miss Potts will react well to either, boss.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Call Steve for me?”

It takes a moment, but Steve eventually answers, slightly out of breath. “Tony? Did you meet with Pepper yet?”

“Do I have to?”

“Do you have to tell the mother of your child that you’re going to use an untested version of extremis on yourself?”

“Well when you put it like that—”

“Tony—”

“I know, I know,” Tony says, looking up at the ceiling. “I just—I want her to know, she needs to know, but it’s crappy timing.”

“That I won’t argue with,” Steve says, a hint of a smile in his tone. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

“I need to tell her about, uh, the engagement as well,” Tony says, swinging his legs down and standing up, starting to pace. “And that—I don’t know how to do that.”

“Do you have to?”

Tony laughs. “Kind of think I do. I trust everyone, but I want to tell Morgan, I want—” he breaks off and looks out at the street below. “I want her to understand that you’re around forever. That you’re going to be part of her life as she grows up.”

“You don’t need to do this for me,” Steve says. “You’ve still got a lot of work to do with the divorce, I don’t want—”

“Stop,” Tony interrupts. “Steve, I want to tell Pepper, I do. I’m just not looking forward to it.”

“If you want, I could come, it wouldn’t take long for me to—”

“I want to say yes, but—” Tony pauses. “I need to tell her alone. She deserves that.”

“She’s a good person.”

“I have good taste.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Steve says with a low chuckle. “But I appreciate the compliment. I won’t be much longer here, want me to swing by and we can go for dinner?”

“Yes please.”

“Ferdinando’s?”

“You read my mind,” Tony says, turning away from the window and walking back to the desk. “I should go, work out what I’m going to say to Pepper.”

“Okay. I’ll get FRIDAY to tell you when I’m on my way.”

“Bring coffee,” Tony says with a grin. “Don’t let Sam beat you up too much.”

“Love you too,” Steve says before ending the call.

Tony sits down and taps his fingers along the edge of the desk before pulling up the blueprints for the Avengers jet. He’s playing with the engine when FRIDAY announces that Pepper’s arrived, and he shuts it down as Pepper walks in.

“Hi,” he says, standing up awkwardly, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Do you—or the couch?”

“Here’s fine,” Pepper says, sitting down. “How are you, Tony?”

“I’m—not good at small talk, you know this,” he says. “Look, I—” he breaks off and sighs. “After Thanos, I realised something.”

“Okay.”

“I want to be around for Morgan,” Tony says, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “I don’t—this life, the way I’ve lived, it’s taken its toll, and that last battle—you saw what shape I was in.”

Pepper’s brow furrows and she shakes her head. “What are you—”

“Extremis,” Tony says. “I’ve made it work. Shuri and I have made it work.”

“Tony—”

“I know, I know what you’re thinking, and Steve, he had the same reservations, but, see, I know what the future holds if I don’t do this. I want to be able to run around with Morgan, I want to be able to be there when she graduates college, I want to see her get married, if she wants to get married, that’s up to her, but Pep, I need to be there for those things.”

“What will it do?” Pepper asks after a moment’s silence. “Extremis, what will it do to you?”

“Give me an extra layer of protection,” Tony says. “The version we have, it’s not immortality, it’s—it’ll heal up some of what’s going on inside. It’ll mean if I get hurt in the field I won’t take weeks to recover, it’ll mean—”

“You’ll get to stay alive with Steve,” Pepper says quietly, almost to herself.

Tony shuts up, not sure what to say to that, anything he could say would only add to the hurt he’s already caused her. He watches her instead, the way she bites her lip, the way she nods to herself, taking the information in, and once again he regrets everything he’s ever done to her. “Pep—”

“No, Tony, I—” she holds up a hand and shakes her head, offering him a tight smile. “It’s okay, I get it. I just—”

“I’m sorry.” Tony sucks in a breath and looks away. “I have something else to tell you as well.”

“God, okay.”

“I—Steve and I, we’re kind of, more than kind of, I mean we’re definitely—”

“Tony.”

“We’re engaged. I mean. Not officially, there’s no rings, and obviously we can’t get married until—but we will. Eventually.”

“Wow,” Pepper says almost absently. “Wow, I—I don’t know what to say. We’re not even divorced yet and—”

“I know, Pepper, I know,” Tony says, looking back at her and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I—should I have told you? Should I have waited? I don’t know what the right thing is to do here.”

“The right thing to do,” Pepper repeats with a harsh laugh. “The right thing. You know, Tony, the right thing would’ve been to not get engaged before we got divorced, but—”

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, his voice raising. “I said I didn’t know what to do here, but I thought—”

“You thought _what_ exactly?” Pepper asks, her voice strained.

“I thought that—” Tony deflates, sitting back in his chair. “I thought that this was the best way to deal with it. Obviously I was wrong. I wanted to tell you because, believe it or not, Pep, I respect you and I care about you. Tell me, would there have been a better way to deal with this?”

“I—” Pepper breaks off and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think there would’ve been.”

“I am sorry, Pepper.”

She takes a deep breath in and blinks, her eyes rimmed red. “Are you going to tell Morgan?”

“I’d like to,” Tony says cautiously. “I’d like her to know that Steve is part of her life for good, but if you want me to wait, then I will.”

“Can I get back to you?”

“Of course, Pep, I don’t need an answer today, I wouldn’t expect you to, I just. I just wanted you to know. At the risk of sparking off another fight,” he continues. “What do you want to do about Christmas?”

“God, I hadn’t even thought about that,” Pepper says. “Will you—extremis? Will it be done by then?”

“I was going to put it off until after Christmas,” Tony says. “I’m not sure of the recovery time, and I don’t want to—she loves Christmas, I don’t want to miss it. If you want, not that we have to, but we have the room, so if you want to—”

“Okay,” Pepper says, cutting through Tony’s rambling. “We’ll do Christmas at your place. Before you become a Brooklynite,” she adds with a smile.

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought?”

“Who indeed,” Pepper says, standing up. “Is that all you have to tell me?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “I’ll see you next week with Morgan?”

“Of course,” Pepper says. She pauses at the door and turns around. “I do want you to be happy, Tony. I do, it’s just—.”

“Difficult?”

“Something like that.”

“I want you to be happy as well, Pep. Whatever it takes.”

Pepper nods in acknowledgement before she walks out of the office. Tony sighs as he watches her go, a heavy weight in his gut as brings the plans for the jet back up.

*

“So what are we looking at, time wise?” Tony asks when they visit the building site.

“We’re going at a good speed,” the foreman says. “Helps that the shell wasn’t shot to hell, cut down construction time. Looking at maybe March, definitely by May.”

Steve hikes Morgan up on his hip and smiles at her. “Hear that, kiddo? We’re gonna have somewhere to live before your birthday.”

“My own room for always?” she asks, squashing Steve’s face between her hands, letting go when Steve nods. “Cool.”

“Very cool, Morguna,” Tony says, kissing her cheek. “How about we go for some burgers with Steve here?”

“Cheeseburgers,” she says with a serious look on her face, resting her head against Steve’s. “Please?”

“You know just how to get me in the heart, bunny,” Tony says, reaching up and covering her face with his palm, laughing when she blows raspberries against it. “I think there’s a diner down the block we can go to. Want to risk walking it?”

“It’s not awful weather,” Steve says. “Morgan, are you cold?”

“No!”

Tony makes a face. “Might get caught by—”

“We’re in Brooklyn,” Steve says. “Even if we do, it won’t be a mob. Plus, I’d like to take a walk with my family.”

“That’s low, Rogers,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes. “Real low.”

“I know,” Steve says with a smug smile. “But it’s working.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony gestures ahead with his hand. “After you. Morgan, put your mittens back on, please.”

The walk is peaceful, only broken by one photographer who spots them, shoots his photos before walking away, calling thanks with a sheepish smile. It's a rare thing, having paparazzi who won’t push it, Tony can count on the fingers of one hand how often that’s happened, and he chalks it up to an anomaly. Either that or Bucky’s been out threatening everyone, it’s really a toss up.

Morgan’s carrying on a conversation with Steve about what Brooklyn was like when he was young; Tony’s not sure how much of Steve’s history she really understands, when he’d made a joke about celebrating Steve’s 107th birthday next year she’d frowned and he’s half convinced she’s going to demand Steve gets a cake with 107 candles on, which. Fire hazard, at the very least.

It’s not normal, but then the entire world isn’t normal anymore. Peter’s still at school when he should’ve graduated and be in college, Natasha’s gone and none of them could bring her back, Stark Industries are funding large scale post-snap therapy, and Tony—well, he’s alive. He’s alive and he’s got Morgan, and somehow he’s got Steve as well.

At this point Tony’s pretty sure that normal is overrated.

“Burgers!” Morgan shouts in Steve’s ear when she sees the neon sign, and Steve almost stumbles in reaction.

“Come on then,” Tony says, opening the door and ushering them inside. “How many burgers do you think Steve is gonna eat?”

“Fifty,” Morgan says with a giggle as Steve sets her down on the floor. “He can eat fifty.”

“Really?” Tony says, taking her hand when she reaches up for him. “And how many are you going to eat?”

“Twenty.”

Tony raises an eyebrow as the waitress shows them to a booth. “I don’t know that your stomach is big enough for that, missy.”

“Is too.”

“How about you start with one and we go from there?” Tony says, handing her the kid’s menu. “And Steve can start with three and we’ll see if he makes it to fifty.”

“I’m not going to eat fifty burgers, sorry Morgan,” Steve says, smiling at her when she pouts. “But I might get some mac and cheese with my burgers and we could share that.”

Tony’s about to say something when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out, he makes a face and shows it to Steve. “We made twitter,” he says as Steve takes it.

“They’re cute photos,” Steve says as he scrolls. “They were quick.”

“We’re still big news, apparently.”

“You’re always big news to me,” Steve says, placing a kiss against Tony’s temple as he puts the phone down. “That’s all that matters.”

Tony’s cheeks flush and he turns his head to kiss Steve properly, only breaking the kiss when he hears Morgan giggling. “What’s so funny, little miss?”

“You an’ Steve,” she says. “Kissy. Where’s my kissy?”

Getting up, Tony switches sides in the booth and raises an eyebrow. “You asked for it,” he says, before he kisses her cheek.

“More!”

“More? Kid, you’re killing me with the demands,” Tony says, pulling her into his lap and pressing kisses all over her face, laughing and dropping kisses against her hair until she squirms around and faces him. “Had enough?”

“Kissy for daddy,” she says, pressing an open mouthed kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you, bunny.”

“Kissy for Steve?” she asks, looking over at Steve.

Steve leans over the table and the smile he has on his face when Morgan presses a quick kiss against his cheek could light up the fucking planet, Tony would swear to it. There’s a soft ache in his chest as he meets Steve’s eyes, only breaking the gaze when the waitress comes over to take their orders.

*

Morgan’s exhausted by the time they make it back to the apartment and they only just manage to get her into her pajamas before she starts whining. “Wan’ a story,” she says, her blankets up to her chin, hand wrapped around a stuffed animal Pepper brought her back from Japan.

“Okay, once upon a time—”

“Story about ‘Tasha,” she says, and Tony can hear Steve’s sudden intake of breath. “Steve tells me them.”

“Oh,” Tony says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Do you want Steve to tell you one?”

“Daddy.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay, I can do that.” He feels more than hears Steve coming to sit on the floor beside him, hand curling around Tony’s fingers, squeezing gently, and—. Tony can do this. He can. “Did Steve tell you about the first time I met Natasha?”

“Nuh uh.”

“She beat up Happy,” Tony says. “I asked her if she wanted to get in the ring with him, and she did. She wrapped her legs around him and took him right down.”

“Can I beat up Happy?” Morgan asks.

“If you asked, kiddo, I’m sure he’d be all for it, but maybe wait until you’re older,” Tony says. “Natasha, she—daddy was sick for a while, and she helped look after me. You know how I look after you when you get sick? Or when mommy looks after you? Natasha did that for daddy. She was a really, really good friend, bunny, I hope you have a friend like her one day.” Tony pauses, wipes his free hand over his eyes. “Uh, Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve says in a rough voice. “When I lived in DC, Nat was a really good friend to me. We had a lot of work to do, but she took me out to try and meet other people, and she—she, uh. She made me laugh, a lot. Not many people got to see it, but she was very funny.”

“Beautiful, too. And smart,” Tony says, as Morgan drifts off. “She was sneaky, liked to play funny games with people, and she—she saved the world. More than once. Natasha was brave, and she never gave up on anything.”

“Never gave up on people, either,” Steve says. “Not ever.”

“I miss her,” Tony says quietly before getting up and leaning down, kissing Morgan on his forehead. “Goodnight, honey.”

Morgan murmurs something under her breath before she rolls over. Switching the lamp off, Tony walks out of Morgan’s room and can only take a few steps before slumping against the wall, sliding down, and covering his face with his hands. “Fuck,” he breathes out as Steve sits next to him, curling an arm around him and pulling him close until Tony’s face rests against his chest.

“I know, sweetheart,” Steve says, and when Tony looks up, there’s quiet tears running down his face.

Reaching up, he brushes them away and offers Steve a small smile. “You know she’d be laughing at us right now, collapsed in a hallway crying over her.”

“She’d be the first to mock us,” Steve says with a choked laugh. “God, I wish I could hear her laughing. See her smile.”

“Me too. Hell, I’d even take her stabbing me in the neck again. Have her teach Morgan how to stab people in the neck.”

“She would’ve done that whether you wanted her to or not,” Steve says. “She would’ve taught Morgan all kinds of things you didn’t want her to.”

“I wish we could bring her back,” Tony says, his throat feeling raw. “I wish she had the chance to be part of this, that she—”

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking wrecked. “I do too.”

There’s nothing more to say after that, and Tony just leans his head back against Steve’s chest as they hold each other, sitting in their grief.

*

December rushes up on them, and before Tony realises it, there’s only two weeks until Christmas. His procedure is scheduled for the second week of January, and he’s starting to get slightly anxious. Not—he trusts what he’s built with extremis, and even if he didn’t, he trusts Shuri to have found any fault. He’s got Helen Cho coming in and—it’s as prepared as he possibly can be, and he wants it. He does. It’s just that Steve keeps looking at him as if he’s going to vanish, and Tony doesn’t know what to do about that.

Steve’s fingers are threaded through his as he curls around Tony from behind, both of them taking advantage of Morgan being with Pepper and enjoying a slow morning in bed. “Will these go?” Steve asks, lifting their joined hands. “The scars?”

“I don’t know,” Tony says, looking at Steve’s blemish free hand covering his. “Maybe. I haven’t quite—they’re not like the scars from accidents in the workshop, I don’t know what extremis will do.”

“Do you want them to go?” Steve asks quietly, bringing their hands back down, shuffling infinitesimally closer to Tony. “The ones from the stones.”

“I know which ones you meant,” Tony says with a half smile. “Why? Do you want them to stay?”

Pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s neck, Steve sighs. “You know I don’t care about scars, Tony. They show your strength, they’re marks of how you saved the world.”

“But?”

“But nothing. I was just curious,” Steve says, thumb rubbing over Tony’s hand before he lets go. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“You in our bed wearing nothing but a bow,” Tony says with a grin, laughing when Steve rolls them over so that Tony’s on his back with Steve on top of him.

“Tony.”

“It’s the truth,” Tony says, reaching up and looping his arms around Steve’s neck, legs spreading so Steve can settle between them comfortably. “I have you, I didn’t think I’d get you. Didn’t think we’d get this. Asking for more seems wrong.”

“Should I get Pepper a gift? Would she be offended?”

“Taken care of,” Tony says. “Shoes, a dress, all from the list of preferred designers. Her favourite perfume, a couple of other things from both of us. I don’t know if she’ll—but at least this way it’s a joint front. And you helped Morgan with the flower pot at her art class, which Pepper will love. It’ll—I think it’ll be okay. She doesn’t hate you, you know.”

“She should,” Steve says, lowering his eyes, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “I would.”

“Do you hate her?”

“What? No, Tony, not at all.”

“Then trust me? She doesn’t hate you. Well. Maybe a little bit, but not to the point where she’d—” Tony breaks off, his fingers stroking along Steve’s shoulders. “Come here,” he says, pulling Steve down and enjoying the solid weight of Steve’s body on top of him as Steve rests his head underneath Tony’s chin. “She’s a good person,” Tony continues, running his hands up and down Steve’s bare back. “She won’t make Christmas awkward. I might, but she won’t.”

“I don’t want to ruin Christmas for Morgan,” Steve says quietly.

“You won’t. Steve, this is going to happen,” Tony says, fingers brushing against the nape of Steve’s neck, playing with his soft hair. “We’re one of those blended families that are all the rage now, we’re going to have joint birthday gatherings and we’re gonna all be at Morgan’s soccer games cheering her on, and have discussions about what teacher is drinking too much—”

“What?”

“Wouldn’t you drink if you had to be a teacher? Kids are terrible, don’t know why we have them.”

“Tony—”

“The point is,” Tony interrupts. “This is it. This is what are our lives now. We just gotta get past the first few awkward big moments and then, hopefully, we’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Steve says. “I’ve done enough damage.”

Tony goes quiet, and holds Steve close, wanting to crawl inside him and erase all the doubt Steve’s feeling right now. “You didn’t do it alone,” Tony whispers. “We can’t keep doing this, Steve. We can’t. If we keep going round in circles with guilt then we’re never going to be able to live our lives.”

“I just—”

“We deserve to be happy,” Tony says. “I have to believe that, or else all this? All we did to get ourselves here? It was for nothing, and I can’t believe that’s the case. And I swear, if you make me be the optimist in this relationship, I’m divorcing you after we marry, and that’ll just be messy for everyone.”

Steve laughs, and Tony can feel his smile against his chest, followed by a soft kiss. “You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, mouth moving against Tony’s skin, tracing the scars left behind.

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

*

Four days later, on his way out of his makeshift office, Tony catches sight of a large package on the table in the hallway. Pausing for a moment before picking it up, he looks at the return address and makes a face. “Steve?” he calls out, walking through the penthouse. “Did these come today?”

“What?” Steve looks up from where he’s building Legos with Morgan. “Yeah, sorry, forgot to tell you. What are they?”

Tony sits on the couch, holding the package tightly in his hands, and shakes his head. “I think they’re the final papers for the—”

“Oh.”

“Yep. I didn’t think they’d get to me so soon.”

“You okay?” Steve asks, handing Morgan the large amount of red Legos he’s been picking out from the piles on the floor.

“I don’t know,” Tony says, running his fingers over the edges of the package, not feeling up to opening it yet. “It’s what I want, what I need to happen, but—”

“Daddy?” Morgan looks up from what she’s building and frowns at him. “Come play with us.”

“Whatcha making, little miss?” Tony asks, putting the papers to one side on the couch and joining them on the floor.

“A castle, and there’s dogs, and Peter lives over here with his dragon.”

“Sounds great,” Tony says, already reaching for some Legos and putting them together. “When did Peter get a dragon?”

“In Legos he has a dragon,” Morgan says, looking at Tony like he’s stupid. “Not really.”

“Oh my mistake,” Tony says with a smile, brushing a hand over her hair as she builds. “What’s Steve building?”

“A racer boat,” Steve says, holding up his design. “It’s for when they need to escape the castle.”

“Very practical.”

“Hey you never know when a rescue will come in handy,” Steve says, picking up a little Lego Iron Man and examining it. “Where shall we put him?” he asks Morgan, handing it over to her.

“At the top of the castle, he can look after everyone,” she says, affixing Iron Man to a turret.

“I think that’s very accurate,” Steve says, with a soft grin aimed at Tony.

“Is there a Cap Lego somewhere?” Tony asks, ducking his head. “I think he should be with Iron Man, protecting everyone.”

“Cap’s looking after the dragon,” Morgan says.

“When did Cap become an expert in dragon care?”

“He’s Cap,” Morgan says. “He can look after dragons.”

“Yeah, Tony,” Steve says, making a face. “Cap can look after dragons.”

“Please don’t put that in the universe,” Tony says. “Carol might swing through bringing one with her and I have no idea what we’d do with a dragon.”

“Let it live at the compound,” Steve says with a shrug. “There’s space, and I’m sure Bruce would look after it when he’s there.”

Tony raises his eyebrows and lets out a laugh, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t believe this is my life,” he says, muffled against his palms. “Discussing the very real possibility of our space friends bringing a dragon for Hulk to hang out with.” He drops his hands and shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning up as he meets Steve’s eyes. “It’s all I want,” he says quietly, leaning in to press a kiss against Steve’s cheek. “Just this.”

“Me too,” Steve says warmly as Morgan pokes him with a Lego. “It might not be what I imagined before I went in the ice, but it’s ours.”

Tony glances behind him at the package of papers, and they’re not leaving him with the ache in his chest like he thought they would, instead they just feel like another piece of paperwork he has to deal with. Not that—it means something, it does, but something in him has flipped and what they’re starting to mean is something good. Something he can look forward to. Something that’s letting him have a future he never thought he’d get. Getting to his feet, Tony picks up the papers and runs a hand over the front of the envelope. “You guys keep playing,” he says, putting the Legos he was using on the floor. “I need to take care of this.”

“You sure?” Steve asks, a hesitant look on his face. “If you want—”

“I’m sure,” Tony interrupts, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezing slightly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Except that one,” he says, nodding towards Morgan. “I got this, Steve, I promise.”

Steve takes Tony’s hand and presses a kiss against his palm. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Steve! The dragon is loose!” Morgan exclaims, her hand coming down on the castle, Legos falling everywhere. “We need help.”

“Well then,” Steve says, dropping Tony’s hand and turning back to her. “Where’s Iron Man?”

Their voices drift into background noise as Tony heads for his small home office, sitting down at the desk and staring at the envelope. Taking a deep breath he opens it up and starts to go through the papers. It’s an amicable divorce, as much as it can be considering the circumstances, but even then Pepper didn’t want to file based on Steve. If it weren’t for the amount of assets between them, they would’ve been done with this months ago.

It’s ridiculously simple in the end, which is somewhat anticlimactic. Pepper stays as CEO, Tony as majority owner. She’s keeping the art, he’s keeping the cars except for the ones he bought for her. Tony gave her half of what the lake house was worth and kept it, if only because he couldn’t bear to see someone else living in it. The custody agreement is flexible, given the travel they both have to do, because Tony would never stop Pepper from seeing Morgan, and he knows she’d never do that to him either. Neither wanted spousal support, Pepper turned him down when he offered, so Tony’s been putting it in a trust fund for Morgan instead.

Sighing, he flicks through the last few pages, rubbing his thumb over where his wedding ring used to sit, and he can’t help but wonder what she did with her ring, with her wedding dress. What she did with the photos of them, with the trinkets she’d kept throughout the years.

Tony misses her. Not as his wife, not as his partner. But as his friend. As the person who knew him so well. The agonisingly small steps they’ve been taking have gone some way to reassuring him that one day they’ll have a friendship again, but it’s—he guesses that co-parenting is as much as he can ask for right now.

Staring at the places he needs to sign, Tony picks up a pen and finds himself hesitating.

“Hey,” Steve says, knuckles rapping against the door frame. “Morgan suggested pizza for dinner, I was going to order in?”

“Yeah,” Tony says absently, not looking around. “Sounds good.”

“You okay?” Steve asks, walking into the room, resting his hands on Tony’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head. “Sweetheart, is there—”

“It’s weird,” Tony says abruptly. “I want to sign, I want to do this because then it means that you and I—but when I sign, then it’s—”

“It’s over.”

“I—it’s been over for a while, but I—” Tony swallows. “I guess I just have to—” he presses the pen against the paper and scrawls his signature on there. It glares back at him, the black ink a harsh contrast against the white paper. “Fuck,” he breathes out, putting the pen down and reaching up to grip Steve’s right hand. “There we are. Wait for the judge to sign off and we’re done. Officially. I think Pepper called in a favour so we don’t have to wait that long.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have—”

“I am,” Steve says. “I’m not sorry that we’re together, or that you have Morgan, but I’m sorry it’s caused you so much pain.”

Tony sighs, leaning back, head resting against Steve’s stomach, holding on tightly to Steve’s hand. “I’ll be okay,” he says, tilting his head back and looking at Steve. “We’ll be okay.”

*

Pepper comes over on Christmas Eve, Tony had invited Happy and Rhodey as well but they’d both shot him looks and said they’d made other plans, which. Fair. Tony doesn’t think he’d want to be in the middle of this if he didn’t have to be. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and lets Steve hug her, and then they’re all standing in the foyer like idiots.

“I’m going to get started on lunch,” Steve says, scratching the back of his head. “Morgan’s watching tv, if you want to hide her gifts now would be a good time.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony says as Steve walks away. “We’re hiding Morgan’s presents in the office, if you—”

“Oh, yes,” Pepper says, gesturing to a bag on the floor. “They’re all in there, there’s a couple for you and Steve as well, if you, well, I thought—”

“No, we have some for you,” Tony says as he lifts the bag up and walks towards the office, Pepper following him. “I thought, I mean, it’s Christmas, right?”

“Exactly,” Pepper says, looking around the office, her gaze stopping on a photo of Tony, Steve, and Morgan. “When was that taken?”

“When was—” Tony cuts himself off when he sees what she’s looking at. “Ah. We took Morgan ice skating at Rockefeller a couple weeks ago, and she wanted to go around the rink on Steve’s shoulders.”

“I didn’t know he could ice skate.”

“Neither did I,” Tony says, looking at the photo, a smile ghosting across his face. “One of the workers there offered to take our photo by the tree, and it turned out so well that I—”

“It’s a lovely photo,” Pepper says. “Really, Tony.”

“Thanks.” Putting the bag under the desk with the other gifts, Tony sticks his hands in his pockets. “Do you—I can show you your room and then you can see Morgan?”

Pepper nods in agreement and Tony walks out of the room, Pepper following him. “How is the building coming along?” Pepper asks as they walk down the hall.

“They tell me it should be done by May, hopefully earlier, but either way we’ll be moved in before Morgan’s birthday,” Tony says. “Never thought I’d look forward to living in Brooklyn, but Manhattan has got—well. It’s my own fault, but it’s claustrophobic. Here,” he says, pausing outside a door. “This is yours, if that’s okay? Steve and I are upstairs, and Morgan is down the hall from you, so I thought—”

“Relax, Tony,” Pepper says with a small smile, clutching her handbag, her rollercase beside her. It’s one Tony hasn’t seen before and for some reason that makes him pause.

“I—yeah, okay. You’re good?” he asks, meeting her eyes. “I can let you get settled and then lunch?”

“I’ll be there in a moment, just let me get changed out of this suit.”

Tony nods, doesn’t dare say anything else before turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Steve’s slicing up some cheese, his back to Tony, and Tony just stands in the doorway, his eyes running over the curve of his ass, the subtle movement of the muscles in Steve’s back, the way his hair has grown out enough at the back to skim the collar of his shirt.

“Stop eyeing me up,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder at Tony.

Tony drags his eyes away from Steve’s ass and shrugs, stepping into the kitchen and walking over until he’s side by side with Steve at the counter, their arms bumping together. “I’m not going to apologise for thinking you’re hot,” he says, stealing a slice of cheese and popping it in his mouth.

“Is Pepper okay?”

“Think so,” Tony says around the cheese. “It wasn’t ever going to be anything but weird.”

“It’s Christmas, Tony,” Steve says, kissing his cheek. “We’ll be okay. Can you get the olives out of the fridge?”

Tony does as Steve asks, putting them on the counter and reaching for the bread. “You want me to toast it?”

“Some of it,” Steve says. “I figured sandwiches would be easiest? We’ve got so much food for tomorrow, and there’s leftover chinese takeout in the fridge for dinner.”

“Healthy,” Tony says, slicing the bread, laughing when Steve elbows him. “Hey! Could lose a finger doing that while I’ve got a knife.”

“Sure, Tony. And it’s Christmas, we don’t need to eat healthy at Christmas.”

“I’ll agree with that,” comes Pepper’s voice from behind them. Tony turns around quickly, she’s in a pair of leggings with a cosy sweater that Tony recognises, and he smiles at the sight of her.

“Hi,” he says. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Tea?” Pepper says, sitting at the kitchen table.

“What kind?” Steve asks, already reaching up into a cabinet.

“Mint, if you have it?”

“We do,” Steve says, bringing it down and handing it to her. “I don’t know how you like—there’s a kettle for the stove above the microwave.”

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

“Sure,” Steve says, offering her a tentative smile. “Help yourself to whatever you want while you’re here, I mean—we’re not—” Steve breaks off and shakes his head. “I know it’s going to be difficult, and awkward, but we—I—want you to be as comfortable as you can be here.”

Tony stills, halfway through cutting more bread, and he doesn’t dare to look over, not wanting to disrupt this. He loves Steve so goddamn much for putting himself out there with Pepper when it would be so easy for him to decide to stay in the background, to act like he’s not a part of this messy family unit.

“You make it very hard to hate you, Steve,” Pepper says as she fills the kettle at the sink. “You really do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I—” Pepper sets the kettle up on the stove and turns around, leaning against the counter as she looks at him. “I don’t want to hate you. I mean. I do, sometimes, but not truly. And you make it very hard. I won’t lie,” she continues, taking the mug Steve hands her. “This isn’t how I imagined spending my Christmases, but—I guess this is the new normal, and we all have to get used to it.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Steve says, and Tony can hear the soft smile in his voice. “Merry Christmas, Pepper.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Tony feels a hand in the small of his back and he turns his head slightly to smile at Steve. “This enough bread?” he asks softly. “There’s another loaf if we need it.”

“Should be fine,” Steve says, fingers rubbing against Tony’s back. “I’ll make more if I get hungry.” He doesn’t move his hand from Tony’s back, and Tony thinks it’s a subtle act of claiming him, which—Tony doesn’t object to, even if part of him finds it absolutely hilarious that Steve is being like this.

Tony looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell Morgan that lunch is ready?”

“Sure,” Steve says, fingers trailing across Tony’s body. “Put the toast on,” he says as he walks out of the kitchen.

When Tony turns around after putting the bread in the toaster oven, he sees Pepper averting her gaze from where she’s been watching them. “There’s more sandwich fillings in the fridge if there’s nothing you like, but I think that we—”

“He really loves you,” Pepper interrupts, her voice quiet. “I can see it.”

“I—yeah,” Tony says, looking down at the floor. “He does.”

“That’s—” Pepper breaks off and sighs. “That’s good.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I do. I—God, Tony, I want you to be happy. I want what you did to be worth it.”

“It is, Pep,” Tony says quietly, looking up and hating himself a little for saying it. “He is.” He turns around and rescues the first batch of toast before it starts burning, piling the slices up on a serving plate and throwing another batch in. 

“Mommy!” Morgan comes running into the kitchen and wraps her arms around Pepper’s legs, giggling when Pepper puts her mug down and picks her up. “It’s Christmas, mommy!”

Pepper smiles at her, holding her close and kissing her forehead. “Hi baby,” she says. “I know! Are you excited?”

“Uh huh. Daddy and Steve said I gotta sleep or else Santa won’t come.”

“Daddy and Steve are right,” Pepper says. “Santa only comes when you’re asleep, you know that. Remember? We told you that last year.”

“I guess,” Morgan says, resting her head against Pepper’s cheek. “You’re staying?”

“Special Christmas sleepover, bunny,” Tony says, running a hand over her hair. “Mommy’s going to sleep in the room down from you, okay?”

“Uh huh,” Morgan says. “And then presents?”

Steve laughs as he walks in the room, Morgan’s water bottle in one hand. “She’s got her priorities right,” he says. “Presents for everyone tomorrow, okay Morgan?”

“So long away,” she says dramatically, huddling closer to Pepper. “Presents tonight?”

“Nice try,” Steve says, putting the water bottle on the table. “Presents tomorrow.”

The pout on her face draws laughs from all three of them, and Tony shakes his head, kissing her cheek. “Steve’s right,” he says. “But how about a grilled cheese?”

“And chips?”

“And chips, sure. But you’re eating some vegetables as well or else Santa won’t come.”

“Daddy!”

Tony holds his hands up. “Hey, I didn’t make the rule,” he says as he walks over to the stove, heating up a pan for the grilled cheese.

“You kind of did make the rule,” Steve says quietly as he leans against the counter, watching Morgan talk to Pepper.

“So sue me, I want her to eat properly,” Tony says, putting a slice of bread in the pan, butter side down, before reaching for the cheese. “Get the toast out?”

“You’re a good dad,” Steve says, kissing his cheek before he walks over to get the toast, and Tony can feel his skin flush in reaction.

“Stop it.”

“Nope.”

Tony sighs, willing his cheeks to calm down; he thought he’d trained himself out of blushing, years of his indiscretions being splattered all over the press, years of intrusive questions and outright lies being thrown at him, but—. He can handle all of that, Tony has a well crafted mask for all of those situations. Being shown genuine affection by people he loves still isn’t something he can deal with. He’s been working on it.

“One grilled cheese,” he says, sliding it onto a plate and cutting it up, putting it on the table. “It’s hot, don’t eat it yet,” he says to Morgan, grabbing a bowl and waving it in front of her face. “Here, have mommy put vegetables in this for you.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do little girls who think vegetables are gross get Christmas presents? No, no, I don’t think they do.”

“Not gross?”

Tony shakes his head and sits down, reaching for the sandwich Steve put together for him. “Good enough, I guess.”

*

Tony expects to be woken up at some awful hour by Morgan, so he’s somewhat surprised when, instead, he’s woken up by Steve running his fingers through his hair. “Morning,” he mumbles, not opening his eyes. “Morgan?”

“Went to wake up Pepper instead, I saw them in the kitchen,” Steve says. “There’s coffee on, if you get up.”

“Rude.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Tony opens his eyes to see Steve looking down at him, an eyebrow raised. His hair’s still mussed, like he just ran his fingers through it before getting up to start the coffee, and Tony wants nothing more than to pull him down into a kiss and get his hand around his cock.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Steve says, gaze a little more heated as he leans down and kisses Tony on the forehead. “And we don’t have time for that.”

Tony makes a grab for him, but is met with empty air as Steve somehow manages to get out of bed quicker than Tony’s ever seen him do before, even when being called for a mission. “Ugh,” Tony says, rolling on his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “Christmas with no blow jobs, what is the world coming to?”

“I didn’t say no for the entire day,” Steve calls from the bathroom, words muffled by his toothbrush. “Just not right now, unless you like the thought of Pepper and Morgan walking in on us?”

“God, I can’t wait until we have our own place and I can have FRIDAY back,” Tony says as he gets out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. Steve’s washing his face, and Tony watches a stray drop of water run down into the hollow of Steve’s throat, trying to resist the urge to lick it, because, really, he knows where that will lead.

They both finish washing up, and Tony shrugs when Steve asks if he needs to put proper clothes on. Tony’s already tugging on a pair of sweatpants, pointing out to Steve that they’re Armani sweatpants so that’s almost like proper clothes. Rolling his eyes, Steve follows suit, and Tony doesn’t say a word when the sweater Steve picks out is one that matches Tony’s sweatpants.

“I hated Christmas growing up,” Tony says, looking out of the window in their bedroom as Steve finishes getting ready. “Really. When I was young, I had to wear a suit, make a good impression on whatever business partners Howard had over. Then, when I’d come back from boarding school, it was the same thing. Worse, sometimes, because I was old enough to take part in the schmoozing, and Howard never kept a close eye on the alcohol over Christmas, so—”

“You don’t have—”

“They died before Christmas,” Tony interrupts, voice holding steady. “After that, I never really—it was easier to drink, snort, fuck my way through the holidays. Pepper tried, before all of—but I didn’t want to do anything. Then, things changed, I didn’t want Morgan’s Christmases to be like mine, and they’re not, she loves Christmas, so that’s why—”

“Hey,” Steve says, coming behind him and wrapping his arms around Tony. Tony leans back against him, taking comfort in the warmth Steve always gives off. “I get it. Morgan’s going to have the best memories of Christmases with you, with us. Nothing but cosy clothes and good food, I promise.”

Tony turns around in Steve’s arms and brushes their mouths together in a soft kiss, smiling when Steve’s hands pull him closer, when Steve’s the one to deepen the kiss. Tony goes with it, the world around him fading away, if only for a moment.

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and Tony breaks the kiss with a sigh. “Yeah?”

“Morgan wants to know when she can open presents,” Pepper says through the door. “I told her breakfast first, so I’m making french toast if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Pep, we’ll be down in a minute.”

Tony hears her walk away, and turns back to Steve, meeting his eyes with a smile. “So, ready for your first Christmas as a member of this family?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, a sweet smile crossing his face. “I really am.”

Morgan’s bouncing in her seat when they get to the kitchen, syrup smeared all over her face and Tony laughs when Steve doesn’t say a word about it as Morgan gives him a sticky kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she says, grinning at him.

“Merry Christmas, Morgan,” Steve says, nodding at Pepper in thanks when she hands him a napkin.

“What about me?” Tony says, crouching down to look Morgan in the eye. “Don’t I get a greeting?”

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Morgan says, her sticky hands grabbing onto his face.

“Back at you, little miss,” Tony says, one hand covering hers. He maneuvers it off his face and gives it a squeeze. “Finish your breakfast.” Straightening up, he walks over to the sink, washes his hands and wipes his face off. When he turns around, Steve’s there to hand him a mug of coffee and Tony takes it with a thankful smile.

“Come sit down,” Steve says as he takes a seat at the table. “Eat some sugar with your coffee.”

“I didn’t ask before,” Pepper says as she passes Tony a plate. “What are we having for Christmas dinner?”

“Roast beef and chicken. Separately, not some kind of horrible hybrid—” Tony notices Morgan staring at him with wide eyes and cuts himself off. “It was delivered just before you got here yesterday, all we have to do is put it in the oven and make the sides. Figured it would be better that way, then none of us have to be in the kitchen too long and we can spend time with Morgan.”

“That’s... very thoughtful, Tony,” Pepper says with a soft smile. “Really.”

“I have my moments.”

“You do.”

“Presents now?” Morgan asks, pushing her empty plate away and looking at Tony.

“Do the grown ups not get to finish breakfast?” Tony asks her before taking a sip of his coffee. “I really think Santa would like it if the grown ups got to finish their breakfast.”

“Daddy.”

“Five minutes, bunny, then we can do presents, okay? And you need to wash those sticky hands,” Tony says, putting his mug down and reaching for his fork.

“I’ll take her,” Steve says, having already finished his breakfast. “C’mon, Morgan, we can both get washed up before seeing what Santa left.”

Tony watches with a fond smile as Morgan eagerly hops down off her chair, wraps a sticky hand around Steve’s index finger, and drags him off to the bathroom.

“He’s good with her,” Pepper says, dragging the last of her french toast through the syrup on her plate. “That’s not—I guess he would be, but seeing it is—”

“He loves her,” Tony says. “He hasn’t said it, but I know he does. Steve would—he’d lay down his life for her, Pep, as much as you or I would.”

“Good,” Pepper says, standing up and carrying her plate to the dishwasher. “That’s what she deserves.”

*

Morgan ends up falling asleep in a giant pile of gift wrap underneath the tree, her presents scattered around the room in a whirlwind of chaos that Tony can’t help but love.

“I’m willing to bet that she didn’t sleep much last night,” Pepper says, curled up in an armchair. “She came and woke me at five.”

Steve winces, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, his other arm curled around Tony. “Did you get her to go back to sleep with you?”

“Oh yes,” Pepper says, a small smile crossing her lips. “I told her Santa doesn’t like kids who wake their parents up before seven and she pouted, but fell asleep pretty easily after that.”

“Smart thinking,” Tony says, tapping Steve on the chest. “We should remember that. Use it all year round.”

“Sure, up until she doesn’t believe in Santa anymore.”

“Don’t make me think of her growing up,” Tony sighs. “Okay, I guess if we want to eat before it’s late, I should get the food on.”

“Wait,” Pepper says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t—there’s gifts for you.” She gets up and rummages around underneath the side of the tree, avoiding disturbing Morgan.

“There’s ones for you under there as well,” Tony says. He presses a kiss against Steve’s cheek before shuffling out from underneath Steve’s arm so he can get up and help Pepper pull out the remainder of the gifts, piling them up in front of the coffee table. “So, are we going to be adults?”

“Oh no, we’re ripping,” Steve says, picking up one that has his name on. “I never really got to do this as a kid,” he says with an apologetic shrug as he rips the gift open to reveal a set of brush pens and a sketchbook.

“I remembered you used to like to draw,” Pepper says. “If they’re not your style, then—”

“No,” Steve interrupts. “They’re perfect, thank you. I haven’t been able to sit and work for a while, but I’ll put them to good use.”

“Well, good,” Pepper says, a pleased smile crossing her face. “And thank you for the flower pot, Morgan said you helped her.”

“She likes her art classes,” Steve says, shifting on the couch so his back is against the armrest. “They needed some volunteers during clay week, it wasn’t any trouble.”

“Still, thank you.”

Tony picks up a gift before he sits back down. “Do I get to open something now?”

Steve stretches his leg out on the couch and pokes Tony in the hip with his foot. “Behave, or else I’ll take all your presents away.”

“Rude,” Tony says, opening the gift he picked up. He pauses when he sees what he’s unwrapped; Pepper’s framed some of Morgan’s drawings, and they’re not just of him and Pepper with Morgan, they’re of him and Steve with her, of Nebula and Peter, Rhodey’s in there as well, and Tony—. “Goddamnit, Pep,” he says, stubbornly wiping at his eyes. “It’s Christmas, I’m not meant to cry.”

“They’re for your new home,” Pepper says, her eyes suspiciously shiny as Tony looks at her. “I thought you’d need something for the walls.”

“I love them,” Tony says, getting off the couch and hugging her as tightly as he dares. “Thank you,” he says against her hair, knowing she’ll understand that it’s more than the pictures he’s thanking her for. “Really, Pep. Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” she says, squeezing him once before letting go.

Steve’s holding the pictures carefully when Tony gets back on the couch, smiling down at them. “She’s got Nebula the perfect shade of blue,” he says, before putting them down on the coffee table.

“I’ll tell Nebula next time we see her,” Tony says. “She’ll love it. I think. Pep, you open something.”

Pepper rolls her eyes and reaches for a gift, unwrapping it to reveal a Louboutin shoe box, she laughs when she lifts the lid and pulls out a shoe. “Are these—”

“The ones that Morgan decided she should draw on when she was two? Yes,” Tony says with a shrug. “Called in a favour, figured you should have some replacements.”

“You know, I still have those,” Pepper says, tapping her finger along the edge of the shoe. “Can’t wear them to any meetings, but I still have them.”

“I know,” Tony says, offering her a smile. “Now you have a pair you can wear out.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

They get through the rest of the gifts fairly quickly, and after that it doesn’t take long to get what there is to do of the dinner prep started; Steve’s peeling potatoes while Pepper chops some carrots, and Tony’s kind of amazed that somehow this is going as well as it is. He doesn’t voice his thoughts, unwilling to jinx it, but instead he just stands there, a bag of green beans in his hand as he watches Steve dump the potatoes in a pan to parboil them.

His phone rings, nudging him out of his thoughts, and he puts the bag of green beans on the counter. “Peter? Is everything—”

“Everything’s fine,” Peter says. “I just—me and May wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Tony says. “You get the gifts? May like her new bag?”

“Yeah, yes, she loves it, thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid—”

“Tony, sorry, Tony. I’ll remember,” Peter says. “I’m okay to come by next week, right?”

“Sure, kid, of course,” Tony says. “Have a good rest of the day with May, okay?”

“Happy’s here as well.”

“I—what? Happy’s having Christmas with you?” Tony asks, shrugging when Pepper and Steve both turn to look at him.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t,” Tony says with a laugh. “But, good, that’s great. I hope he’s treating May well.”

“It’s weird.”

“Join the club, kid,” Tony says.

“He keeps going to kiss her and then sees me and stops.”

“Suck it up, kid,” Tony says, knowing the fondness in his voice isn’t hidden. “See you next week.” Ending the call, he furrows his brows in amusement. “So, Happy and May,” he says as he checks on the meat.

“I mean, they did spend a lot of time together after the snap,” Pepper says. “It’s not that surprising.”

“No, I guess not,” Tony says. “It’s just—”

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing,” he says, going and standing by Steve, taking some comfort in the way their sides brush together. “I’m glad they’ve found something that makes them happy.”

*

Three days after Christmas, the judge signs off on the divorce.

Tony has no idea how to feel. It’s like things are speeding up, the divorce is done, in a week he’ll have extremis injected into him, and then—then he doesn’t know what will happen. He’s confident he’ll survive, that extremis will be what he and Shuri have worked it out to be, because he can’t even begin to contemplate the idea of it _not_ working.

They’ve taken a day to go to the compound so that Tony can get some of his work wrapped up before he goes through the procedure just in case he needs more recovery time than he’s anticipated. Morgan’s with them, dragging Steve ahead by the hand, Steve laughing and pretending to go slow as Morgan laughs at him.

“Hey mini-Stark,” Bucky says as they walk into the compound, kneeling down to greet Morgan. “How you doing?”

“Hi, Mr. Bucky,” Morgan says, holding onto Steve’s finger. “Mommy’s in India.”

“Is she now? So you’re hanging out with your dad and Steve?”

“Yep, daddy has to do some work an’ then me an’ Steve are gonna drag him out for lunch.”

Tony snorts, tapping at his phone. “Told you she was paying attention,” he says to Steve, looking at him above his sunglasses. “My little parrot.”

“Don’t call her that,” Steve says mildly, leaning in and kissing Tony’s cheek. “Go and do work, we’ll see you soon.”

Turning his head, Tony catches Steve’s mouth in a proper kiss, smiling when he feels Steve giving into it. “There,” he says, pulling away. “Now I’ll go and so some work.” Before he goes, he crouches down and brushes a hand over Morgan’s hair. It’s getting long, and he’s been spending time looking at braiding videos, trying to be ready for when she wants it styled. Fingers trailing along her face, Tony smiles when she scrunches up her nose. Pressing a kiss against her head, Tony taps her on the nose. “Be good. Stick some magnets on Mr. Bucky’s arm.”

“Hey,” Bucky protests, but shrugs when Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, if it makes her happy.”

“Sucker,” Tony says with a grin as he straightens up, meeting eyes with Steve for a moment before he walks off to his workshop. Pepper asked him, once, if he was really okay with Bucky being around Morgan and—. He didn’t know how to explain that he was, that all those years of bitterness and hurt had done nothing but corrode a part of him that he couldn’t ever get back, and he couldn’t live with it anymore. There was no point to it.

Those years away from Steve, all he did was bury everything, try and hide from the hurt and the fact he’d been left broken, and then. Then came the snap. Came the loss. Came him stranded in space and realising that if they’d, then maybe—. If he thought about it, he’d forgiven Barnes before he even made it back from space, he didn’t need the five years to do that.

So, yes. He trusts Bucky being around Morgan. Trusts Bucky in general.

The door to the workshop slides open and Tony watches as everything switches on, smiling when DUM-E comes and nudges at him with his claw. “Uh huh, hi to you too,” Tony says, walking through to his chair. “I’ve got work to do,” he says, pulling up the final designs for the jets. “FRIDAY, did we get this sent to be made?”

“No, boss, you wanted to check them over one last time.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Guess we’ll start there. DUM-E? Coffee, please. Try not to get oil in it.”

Whirring happily, DUM-E scoots over to the coffee machine, and Tony gets stuck in.

By the time Steve and Morgan come down to the workshop, Tony’s got the jet designs sent out to be made, has finished the next generation of the StarkPhone, and has made some progress on the medical tech that he’s been desperate to get finished. Morgan’s running around the workshop being chased by DUM-E, shrieking at the top of her voice, and Steve’s got his hands on Tony’s shoulders, slowly rubbing the aches out of the muscles.

“Better?” Steve asks, thumbs pressing against the curve of Tony’s neck.

“S’good,” Tony says, tilting his head back to look at Steve. “Really.”

“You get everything done?”

“Mostly,” Tony hums. “Still need to work on the prosthetics, the prototype isn’t quite there yet, but I can’t get a hold on what it is I need to do to get it there. Frustrating.”

“You’ll work it out.”

“Of course I will, but I’m not going to get it done before extremis,” Tony says with a sigh. “I don’t know how long my body will need to adapt, and now everyone’s going to be waiting longer, and I—”

“Daddy?” Morgan comes to a stop in front of him, her hands resting on his knees as DUM-E whirs to a stop behind her.

“Yes, little miss?”

“We gonna drag you to lunch now?”

“Well I guess between you and Steve here, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Nope,” Steve says, leaning down and kissing Tony’s forehead. “You going to come with us, or are Morgan and I going to have to carry you out of here?”

“Tempting as that is,” Tony says, winking at Morgan. “I think I can manage to come and eat with you.”

When they get to the kitchen, Bucky’s still got magnets stuck to his arm, and Tony smiles as Morgan skips over to him, tugging him down by the hand so she can rearrange them.

“We ordered in,” Steve says, putting a plateful of carnitas tacos in front of him, and Tony can almost feel his mouth start to water. “Didn’t think we’d get them to deliver out here but I guess because it’s us, they did.”

“That, and the fact they know they’re gonna get a big tip,” Bucky says as he helps himself to some tortilla chips. “Probably helps.”

“I got fishy tacos,” Morgan says, sliding onto a seat next to Tony. “Steve said I can have churros.”

“If you eat your fishy tacos,” Steve says, looking at her over Tony’s head. “Remember?”

“Uh huh,” Morgan says, picking apart her tacos until she can get to the fish. “Chips please,” she says, holding out a hand to Bucky and offering him a smile when he hands them over.

“Is everyone a sucker for my kid?” Tony asks around a mouthful of food. “Because this is just sad, guys, really. Earth’s mightiest heroes taken down by a five year old.”

“Five and a half, daddy.”

“Yes, sweetpea, that makes it so much better you can reduce Barnes here to mush, absolutely, what was I thinking.”

“I’m not a sucker,” Bucky says.

“You still have magnets on your arm.”

“That’s--” Bucky shakes his head and smiles. “I guess there’s worse things to be than a sucker for mini-Stark.”

“Damn straight,” Tony says, running a hand over Morgan’s hair.

*

The morning of the procedure, Tony wakes up to Steve’s mouth around his cock, and he’s barely awake, let alone functioning, before he’s coming, hands reaching down to grab at Steve’s hair. “What the—” he breathes out as Steve looks up at him, chin resting against the top of Tony’s thigh. There’s drops of come on Steve’s chin, and Tony blinks as he slowly gets his breath back. “Hi,” he says, fingers trailing down the side of Steve’s face, smiling as Steve turns into the touch.

“Thought I’d give you a good memory for when you’re going under,” Steve says, crawling up the length of Tony’s body until he’s flush against him.

“I think about that, I’m gonna have a hard on when I get injected with extremis,” Tony says, cradling the back of Steve’s head and pulling him down into a kiss. Tasting himself on Steve will never get old, and Tony deepens the kiss, searching it out, swiping his tongue against Steve’s lower lip as Steve’s cock rubs against Tony’s thigh.

“Tony,” Steve groans against Tony’s mouth, teeth grazing against his bottom lip. “I—”

Before Tony can do anything, before he can reach down, get his hands on Steve, do something, anything, Steve’s hips are jerking as he comes all over Tony’s leg, his mouth sucking a mark against Tony’s neck.

“Hey,” Tony says, running his hand through Steve’s hair and pulling slightly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he meets Steve’s eyes, seeing the slightly lost look on Steve’s face. “I’m not. Today is just... a refit.”

“I know,” Steve says. “I do, I just—”

“Nope,” Tony interrupts. “No. I need you to believe me.”

“I do.”

“One day I’m getting you to say that to me under very different circumstances.”

“Can’t wait,” Steve says, leaning down and giving Tony a soft kiss. Tony sighs into it, the frantic desperation of Steve’s earlier actions having worn off, and he lets his brain shut off as much as it can, just enjoying the lazy play of Steve’s mouth against his.

All too soon, Steve’s pulling away with a regretful look on his face. “We need to get you to—”

“I know,” Tony says. “Helen’s meeting us there, Rhodey as well.”

Helen Cho had flown in at the beginning of the week from where she’d been consulting on behalf of SI in Sokovia, working with the government on medical tech to help improve the lives of the citizens. The board members keep making noises about the cost, but Tony can’t stop, needs to do what he can to make up for all the damage they’ve done over the years.

“It’s cruel and unusual that I can’t have coffee before an experimental procedure,” Tony says with a groan as he stares up at the ceiling before getting out of bed. “Joining me in the shower?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve does, of course, Tony’s convinced he’s going to persuade Helen to let him be in the room while Tony undergoes the procedure. She’d said that Tony could be awake if he wanted, but he’s still not great with the idea of being awake while having something medical done to him. It’s been years since Afghanistan, but he still dreams, still feels the flashes of pain, hears the screaming, wakes up scratching at his chest, the phantom pain of his chest being carved up lingering in the darkest parts of his mind. The only way he got through the reactor and shrapnel being taken out was by being put under, he doesn’t want to test if he could do this without going under.

By the time they’re ready to leave, Tony can practically see Steve’s nerves racing under his skin. “You can go to the gym while I’m recovering,” Tony says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m not gonna leave you.”

“And I appreciate that, but you’re already vibrating out of your skin.”

“No, I—” Steve breaks off, kisses the side of Tony’s head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mmm,” Tony says. “Okay.”

“Oh,” Steve says, reaching into his pocket. “Morgan wanted me to give you this.”

It’s a wrench from the kids toolset he gave her for her last birthday. He’d still been recovering after Thanos, and she’d sat on the bed running it lightly over his arm to try and fix him. Tony stares at it before taking it from Steve and holding it tightly in his hand. “Goddamnit,” he says, shaking his head. “Okay,” he says around the lump in his throat. “Gimme a kiss and let’s do this.”

*

Tony doesn’t remember anything about the procedure. He remembers Steve’s face behind a mask, eyes shining the brightest blue Tony’s ever seen. He remembers chucking at a joke Helen made.

And then nothing.

The last time he woke up in recovery was horrible, everything ached and he was overwhelmed by the guilt of putting his loved ones through yet another brush with death. This time—this time it’s different.

The only thing that’s the same is that Steve’s holding his hand.

“Tony? Hey, sweetheart.” Steve lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Tony’s hand. “You did great.”

“It’s—I feel good.”

“Helen said you’re stabilised,” Steve says. “You’ll be able to come home with me tonight if you can keep some food down in a few hours.”

“It worked?”

“Yes, baby, it worked,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand. “You did amazing.”

Tony turns his head to meet Steve’s eyes and smiles. “How do I look?”

“You always look good to me,” Steve says, brushing a hand over Tony’s hair. “Are you—do you need anything?”

“Just you.”

“You’ve got me. Always.”

“Can I—I wanna—” Tony flails a little, trying to sit up and getting tangled in wires. “Are these really necessary? I feel great.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says, standing up and detangling Tony, helping him sit up. “Next time you become a human test subject, you can do it without monitoring,” he says.

“There’s that sarcasm I love,” Tony says as Steve fluffs a pillow, placing it behind his back. Looking down at his hands, Tony’s eyes widen at the lack of marks on them, the scars from using the stones having vanished. Clenching his right hand he shakes his head in disbelief at the lack of weakness.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, I—huh. I didn’t—it’s weird, right? I don’t—this is what I wanted, but I—?”

Steve cuts him off mid sentence with a kiss, and Tony falls into it, hands reaching up and grasping at Steve’s shoulders; one hand sliding up the back of Steve’s neck, fingers tangling in the ends of Steve’s hair. It’s grounding him, the familiar feel of Steve’s mouth on his, the subtle scent of his cologne seeping through the overwhelming antiseptic stench of the room, and Tony’s able to breathe a little easier. Catching Steve’s mouth in another kiss when he goes to pull away, Tony laughs when Steve smile breaks them apart. “Okay?” Steve asks, rubbing their noses together.

“Better. Thank you,” Tony says, fingers trailing along Steve’s shoulders and down his arms until he can grip Steve’s hands. “I feel stronger,” he says. “I don’t—the weakness I had is gone.”

“That’s good,” Steve says tentatively as Tony lets go of his hands. “Right?”

“No, it is, it’s good, I—even after the reactor and the shrapnel was taken out, I still felt it. The ache in my chest was still there, it never felt like me, and then—the regular hurt from using the suit, from getting old, from—” Tony cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t feel any of it now.”

“When I first changed into—” Steve waves a hand up and down his body. “It was the first full breath I was ever able to take. When I was chasing after—I kept running into walls, crashed into a store window because I couldn’t control my body. It wasn’t until I was rescuing the 107th that I started to feel comfortable in my new body.” Steve runs a finger over Tony’s right hand, tracing where the scars used to be. “It’ll take you a while, but you’re still you. Still my Tony.”

“Your Tony, huh?”

“Well, I kinda hope so considering that we live together, are engaged, and—”

“Okay, smartass,” Tony says knowing he’s got a fond smile on his face. “You made your point.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Helen sticking her head in. “You’re awake,” she says, opening the door fully and walking in.

“I don’t think I like that you sound so surprised,” Tony says with a raised eyebrow as she checks his vitals. “Everything good, doc?”

“You’re healthier than you were when you came in,” she says. “But I’m guessing you anticipated that.”

“Anticipated everything,” he says with a shrug. “Curse of being a genius, you know that.”

“Did Steve tell you—”

“That I can go home if I eat? Yes, yes he did. Can I try and eat now?”

“Give it another hour, then try something simple. You should be fine, but I don’t want to take any chances. You’ll keep me informed about any changes, how extremis develops as time goes on?”

“Absolutely, doc. Thank you for helping. You’re the only one who could see this to the end,” Tony says. “Anything you ever need, just call.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Tony leans back against the pillows as she takes her leave. “She’s amazing,” he says. “Have you got my phone? I want to call Morgan.” Taking it from Steve, he flicks the screen up and calls Pepper. “Hi Pep,” he says when her face comes up on the holoscreen. “Still alive.”

“Never had any doubts,” she says, her face softening into a smile. “It went okay? Is Steve there? Do you want to speak to Morgan?”

“I’m fine, better than fine,” he says, hand creeping across the bed until he can tangle his and Steve’s fingers together. “Steve’s here, don’t think I can get rid of him,” he says, smiling when Pepper rolls her eyes. “Is she there, can I—”

“Hold on,” Pepper says, getting up and taking the phone with her. As Tony watches, Morgan comes into view. “Morgan, daddy’s awake.”

“Daddy! Your marks are gone,” she says, her little brow furrowing. “Did the thingy work?”

“Yes, the thingy worked,” Tony says, trying to hide a smile. “Are you okay with the marks being gone?”

“Still daddy,” Morgan says, like he’s being stupid which he guesses he is. “Can we have pasta when I come and stay?”

“Absolutely,” he says instantly. “All the pasta you want. In fact, daddy could teach you how to make some special pasta his mommy used to make him, would you like that?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay then, bunny, we’ll do that.”

“Can we go to the park?”

“Sure,” Tony says. “Pasta and the park, sounds like a plan. Hey, Morgan? Love you.”

“3000?”

“3000,” he says quietly as she runs off and Pepper’s face appears back on the holoscreen. “Thanks, Pep.”

“Of course,” she says. “I’m glad it worked, Tony.”

“Because you would’ve killed me if it killed me?”

“And who has time for that?”

“Glad to know I’m such a high priority for you, Miss Potts.”

“Goodbye, Mr Stark.”

“Bye, Pep,” Tony says as he flicks the screen down and settles back against the pillows. “I think it’s getting better with her.”

“Christmas helped,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand. “You knew it would take time.”

“Me throwing our engagement at her didn’t help.”

“Can’t change that.”

Tony nods, meeting Steve’s eyes, an involuntary smile crossing his face as he looks at him. “Wouldn’t want to.”

*

When they make it back to the penthouse, Tony having been able to keep down the blandest soup in the world along with some saltines, Steve presses a kiss against Tony’s cheek and leads him to their bedroom. “Shower?” he asks as Tony pauses in front of the full length mirror on the wall.

“What? Yes, I—” Tony looks away from the mirror. “A shower. Yes, that sounds. Yes.”

Steve comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t think it would change me this much,” Tony admits. “On the outside, I—it’s not just the scars.”

“You don’t look that different to me,” Steve says, sliding a hand under Tony’s shirt, resting against his stomach. “Your scars are gone, but you’ve still got lines on your face, there’s still greys in your hair.”

“Thanks,” Tony says wryly.

“I like it,” Steve says, kissing Tony’s cheek before meeting Tony’s eyes in the mirror. “Some of it’s gone, sure, but I don’t know how I’d feel if you looked twenty.”

“God, can you imagine?” Tony says. “I hated being twenty, I don’t think I could cope looking in the mirror and seeing that face staring back at me. It’s bad enough the press bring up old photos whenever—what are you doing?”

Steve flushes and pauses where he’s been unfastening Tony’s pants. “Just—”

“I don’t think anything down there has changed,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “But you’re welcome to keep looking.”

“Come shower with me,” Steve says, turning Tony around and brushing their mouths together.

They stumble towards the bathroom, shedding clothes as they go, grabbing at each other, and Tony loves this, won’t ever get enough of how easy it is with Steve, how this feels like what he’s spent his life waiting for. They spent so many years fighting, so many years apart, that it shouldn’t feel this easy, but—somehow it works. Tony can’t question it, because if he does, he thinks it could all fall apart.

Steve’s standing under the spray, the water darkening his hair, and Tony just watches as the water runs down Steve’s body, tracing the curve of every muscle. “You gonna join me, or what?” Steve asks, disturbing Tony from his thoughts.

Rolling his eyes, Tony steps into the shower, laughing when Steve grabs him and tugs him under the spray; the water hits Tony and he closes his eyes as he turns his face up into it, letting it wash away the remnants of the hospital visit. He’s so caught up in it, he jumps when he feels Steve’s mouth against his neck, and Tony lets out a low groan, his hands automatically grabbing at whatever part of Steve he can.

Steve traces a line of kisses up Tony’s neck, and by the time he reaches Tony’s mouth, Tony’s desperate for it, wanting nothing more than to taste Steve, to curl in against his body and refamiliarise himself with every inch of Steve’s mouth. He pushes at Steve a little until Steve gets the hint and backs up against the shower wall, not willing to break the kiss, and it’s—god, it’s everything. Steve’s hands trail down Tony’s back, hands gripping his ass, and Tony whines against Steve’s mouth, suddenly vividly aware of how hard his cock is, how Steve’s in the same situation.

“What do you want?” Steve mumbles against his mouth. “Sweetheart, I—”

“Anything,” Tony says, grinding his hips against Steve’s, letting the water ease the way. “This, your hands, I— _fuck_.”

One of Steve’s hands leaves Tony’s ass and from the noise that follows, he’s searching for the waterproof lube they’ve taken to keeping in here. There’s a small cry of triumph from Steve, and the next thing Tony knows, Steve’s slick fingers are opening him up, and it’s all Tony can do not to cry in relief. “Come on,” Tony says. “Steve, I—please,” his voice cracking on the last word.

The loss of Steve’s fingers makes Tony whine, but then Steve’s right there, guiding Tony out of the spray; Steve sits on the bench and slicks his cock up, before reaching for Tony and pulling him onto his lap, legs either side of Steve’s hips. “You good?” Steve asks, hands running down Tony’s back. “Is this—”

“Yeah, yes,” Tony says, leaning down and kissing Steve, pressing his fingers against the curve of Steve’s jaw. “I’m—” he cuts off at the feel of Steve’s cock pressing inside him. “Fuck, Steve, baby, I—”

“Yeah,” Steve says, catching Tony’s mouth in a kiss. “Yeah, I—”

Slowly, Tony takes Steve in, letting himself go, trusting Steve to hold him steady, to keep him safe. “So fucking full,” Tony says, tongue swiping over Steve’s bottom lip. “Steve, you gotta—I can’t—”

Steve knows what he’s saying, always knows, and gets a firm grip on Tony’s hips before he starts moving, fucking Tony like only he can, and Tony, he—he’s lost to it. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, he kisses him again and again, his own cock pressing against Steve’s stomach, leaving trails of precome against Steve’s skin. Tony doesn’t want to lose contact with any part of Steve, just wants to stay like this forever, Steve filling him up, Steve’s mouth against his, always.

“Perfect,” Steve breathes out. “So fucking perfect.”

Tony nips at Steve’s bottom lip, a small ball of triumph bubbling up when Steve’s rhythm falters, and then there’s nothing but the feel of Steve’s cock sliding inside him, over and over until Tony thinks he’s going to lose it. “C’mon, Steve, baby, I want you to come, fill me up, please, I need—”

“God, Tony, I—”

“Love you, love you so much,” Tony says, pulling Steve’s head back by the hair so he can meet his eyes. They’re blown out with lust, blue almost totally blacked out, and Tony shifts, gets the angle just right so that his cock is getting the right kind of friction against Steve’s stomach and he’s so close, so goddamn close that—.

“Love you,” Steve whispers, and that’s all it takes for Tony to come all over Steve’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out, abs clenching with the effort, his legs shaking as Steve continues to fuck him, hands gripping Tony’s hips so hard Tony knows he’s going to have bruises, extremis or no extremis. “You got me,” Tony says quietly, seeing the almost wild desperation in Steve’s eyes. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, Steve, you got me, I’m—”

Steve chokes out Tony’s name, and then he’s coming, curling in against Tony as he does, and Tony just holds on, groaning at the feel of Steve’s cock inside of him. The grip Steve has on Tony’s hips eases off and Steve leans back against the wall, looking up at Tony with a tired smile. “I wasn’t planning on that,” he says, reaching up and pushing Tony’s hair back off his forehead.

“You had your hands down my pants,” Tony says with a smirk as he runs his hands down Steve’s chest, swiping a finger through the mess he made on Steve’s skin. “You were planning something.”

“I just—” Steve breaks off, fingers pressing lightly against Tony’s waist. “Wanted you. Wanted you to know that I always want you, whatever you look like.”

“I know,” Tony says, leaning down and resting their foreheads together for a moment. “I do, Steve, I know.”

“Good,” Steve says, hands running down Tony’s ass, his fingers tracing around where they’re still joined, and Tony shivers, eyes fluttering closed. “Tony, you—”

“What?” Tony opens his eyes and follows Steve’s gaze down to see his cock hardening again, which—. “Huh.”

“That’s—”

“I didn’t—”

“Extremis?”

Tony shrugs, wriggles in Steve’s lap, laughing when Steve lets out a groan, his cock still hard inside Tony. “Let's take this to the bedroom,” Tony says. “Take advantage of me being able to keep up with you.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how you put up with me,” Tony says, nudging his nose against Steve’s cheek, tongue darting out and licking at Steve’s skin. “Terrible, wanting to have sex with my gorgeous boyfriend.”

“Fiance.”

“Oh,” Tony smiles. “Yeah. Fiance. Oh god—”

“What?”

“I have to plan another wedding.”

*

The press don’t catch on to extremis, they mostly seem to think Tony’s had some kind of extreme plastic surgery, with the implication that he’s done it because of vanity. He thinks about setting them straight, but revealing extremis would only open a can of ethical worms. Tony thinks he should be congratulated on his restraint, especially after being accused by some of the gutter press of dating Steve just to get his hands on his blood.

Things aren’t perfect, he and Pepper get into an all out blowout over where Morgan should attend school, with Tony pointing out that with Pepper travelling for SI, he’ll be the active parent most of the time so it makes sense for that school to be in Brooklyn. Pepper doesn’t speak to him for a month, all communication going through Steve instead. Tony’s not sure how to feel about that.

Sometimes Morgan cries and cries when she’s with Tony and Steve, and yells about wanting to go back to Pepper, and there’s nothing Tony can do about it except hold her because they can’t give in to her. She does the same with Pepper, yelling for Tony, and it’s—. It’s rough. For all of them.

There are still nights when Tony lays awake wondering if he’s fucking up Morgan’s life, but Steve’s always there to listen and soothe away his worries. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

So it’s not perfect.

But every day he gets to look over at Steve and still feel that ache in his heart, that ache that says Steve is it, that he gets Steve for the rest of his existence, well. Tony can live with his less than perfect life.

**Author's Note:**

> there will probably be a third fic in this 'verse tying up some loose threads I left hanging.
> 
> fic post on [tumblr](https://gotthesilver.tumblr.com/post/186539882927/new-fic-feeling-flows-both-ways-stevetony)
> 
> fic post on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starstarked/status/1154397193333354496)


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